


Among the Nein

by Nellaplanet



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Body Horror, Caleb is his own warning tbh, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Gen, Kinda, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, POV Beauregard Lionett, POV Caleb Widogast, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, aroace Caduceus, aroace jester, basically it's an among us au, everyone's so fucking shifty i just felt it fit, let's play who's the murderous alien monster!, magic in space, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 71,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellaplanet/pseuds/Nellaplanet
Summary: Beau never intended to stow away on a glorified research vessel headed for Ruidus, and had she intended to, she certainly wouldn’t have planned on getting discovered and dragged from her hiding spot in less than eight hours. Still, she could do worse.And then someone murdered the captain.AKA the Among Us AU no one asked for (no prior knowledge of the game required; if you like space and murder you'll be fine).
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 94
Kudos: 147





	1. On to Ruidus

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, the moment I started playing Among Us I knew it would be a perfect Critical Role AU. These assholes are all so fucking shifty early on, I love it. This is going to be mostly found family, but there will be some romance along the line.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr if you like! I'm nellasbookplanet.

When Beau left – or, let’s face it, ran away from – the Cobalt Soul, she never intended to stow away on a glorified research vessel headed for Ruidus. And if she'd planned to, she certainly wouldn’t have intended to get discovered and dragged from her hiding spot in less than eight hours.

“You know, I’m sure you could find a cooler job than this,” she said as a dark haired woman with very impressive arms led her through the echoing corridors. “As, I don’t know, an enforcer for a crime boss or something.”

She certainly had the quietly threatening aura for it. She'd barely even glanced at Beau since she dragged her from her hiding place behind a couple shipping crates, hand on the back of Beau’s neck as if she was an unruly kitten, but it was clear resistance would be futile. It wasn't that she was cruel or violent or even mean; when Beau attempted to worm her way out of the situation she simply waited, staring all the while with mismatched eyes, until Beau’d talked herself out, and then repeated her request that Beau come with her. Voice never wavering, eyes never flickering. Arms crossed, muscles bulging. Beau had come with her.

“I already am,” the woman said, making Beau falter in her steps. The hand on the back of her neck kept her steady.

“Wait, seriously? Because I have connections, I _know_ people, I’m sure we could cut some kind of deal and forget about this whole thing.”

The woman glanced down at her. “That was a joke.”

“Oh.” Beau was quiet for a moment. “So no deal then?”

“How much money do you have?”

Beau squinted at her. “Is that another joke?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” A beat. “That’s very funny.” Beau thought maybe she didn’t sound very convincing, so she tried adding a laugh. The laugh didn’t sound very convincing either. 

The woman didn’t respond, didn’t even tighten her grip. No expression whatsoever, unless you counted ‘stoic’ as an expression. Beau could take lessons. She could take lessons in make-up, too; the woman’s face paint was magnificent.

They stopped in front of an inconspicuous door, and the woman pressed her hand to a wall panel next to it, making it light up briefly. Beau expected the door to open but the woman just stood there, staring at the wall. Beau attempted to mimic her posture without being too obvious about it.

The panel crackled. “Yes?” an accented voice said through the static. Beau had an impulse to punch the panel to see if the sound improved. It worked surprisingly often.

“I’ve got the hitchhiker,” said the woman.

“Bring her in.”

“I resent that,” Beau said as the door slid open to reveal a warmly lit cabin. “I’m not a hitchhiker.”

“No, hitchhikers usually ask for permission.”

Beau turned to look at the new speaker. It was a half-orc man, no visible tusks and of an unusually slight build under his uniform. From the strict look of it Beau guessed he was the first mate, though the stiff way he held himself, straight-backed and slightly puffed up, made her think it was a new position. He met her gaze with a tired look before turning back to a datapad in his hands. Beau squinted suspiciously at him.

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

“That you do.” He glanced up. “Beau, was it? Expected you to still be laid out with a hangover.”

She pointed excitedly at him as it clicked into place. “Fjord! Man, didn’t expect to see you here, and in such a fancy outfit, too.”

‘Knew him’ might be an exaggeration; they’d had some drinks together the night before in the port's inn, along with a tiefling woman who seemed to consist solely of pastries and glitter. Beau glanced around, half expecting to see her there, too. No luck. The cabin looked to be Fjord’s private room, with a bunk and a small sink and a bag thrown haphazardly on a chair. Fancy; Beau suspected most of the crew didn’t get their own quarters.

“Listen, I can explain this,” she continued. Fjord was a sensible man, but not _too_ sensible, or he never would've had drinks with her. Surely she’d be able to convince him not to hand her right back over to the Cobalt Soul. She hadn’t even been gone for a week; being sent back already would damage her reputation.

“I don’t really care.” Fjord placed the datapad on a small side table. “Yasha, did you search her?”

“Yes. No weapons, except, uh.” She held up Beau’s extendable staff, small enough in its compact state to fit in her hand. Beau had tried convincing her it was a walking stick. It hadn’t worked.

“Any contraband?”

“No.”

Thank Ioun she hadn’t had any drugs on her.

“So not a smuggler. Is there a reason you’re headed to Ruidus, Beau?”

She shrugged. “It’s not so much that I’m headed _to_ somewhere as _away_ from somewhere.” Ruidus certainly hadn’t been her first choice, but she'd seen Dairon asking around in port and this ship was the closest.

“Running away from the law, then.”

“I am not,” Beau protested, indignant. “What do you take me for, a _criminal_?” 

She was, in fact, a criminal. Her dad had just made damn sure it was struck from her permanent record. Couldn’t have that in that family. Couldn’t even have it in the house.

“Well, it doesn’t matter much,” Fjord said. “Lady DeRogna’s already in a mood, and we’re not turning back to port just to throw you off. We’re just going to have to deal with each other for a while.”

“Sweet.”

He gave her a look. His eyes were yellow, with slit pupils, like a cat’s. “You will not be allowed in the labs, or the bridge, or engineering, or anywhere that isn’t your sleeping quarters or the common areas. This includes the med bay, excluding if you’re injured. Once we reach Ruidus, you’ll not be allowed off the ship. If you cause any problems at all, if you so much as scratch the paint job on the bathroom wall, I’ll have Yasha throw you out an airlock. Do you understand?”

Beau crossed her arms, rocking back on her heels and tipping her chin up. Next to her Yasha looked bored, but not in a slacking off sort of way. More like she was used to handling threats twice the size of Beau and half as polite, and Beau wasn’t very polite. “Crystal,” she said.

“Are you sure? Because it seems like you have a hard time knowing where you’re allowed, seeing as you were napping in our restricted cargo hold. We do have beds, you know.”

Beau stopped weighing on her feet and glared at him. “You think you’re very funny, don’t you?”

He grinned at her. “I have my moments.” Then he waved at the door. “Yasha, give her the tour. Make sure she knows what the restricted signs look like.”

Yasha turned away without a word, clearly expecting Beau to follow. Beau was tempted to flip Fjord off before leaving, or at the very least to stick her tongue out. He'd seemed like more fun at port.

“Oh, and Beau?”

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“I will have to look you up to make sure you’re not actually a wanted killer here to murder us all, so I’m going to need your full name.” He actually sounded apologetic about it.

Beau considered giving him a false name. She could even say she wasn’t from the Empire, to explain why she wasn’t in the official registry; judging from his accent he wasn’t exactly local, either, so it wasn't like it’s that rare. But it might make him suspicious, and then he might lock her up anyway just to be sure. If she got really unlucky he’d hand her over to the authorities once they got back. 

“Beauregard,” she said reluctantly. “Lionett.”

* * *

“This is the cafeteria,” said Yasha, which made up about half of the collected words she’d uttered since leaving Fjord’s quarters. The other half had been ‘this is the sleeping quarters.’ After a moment’s quiet she added, “It’s where we eat.”

“No shit.” Beau glanced around; it was fairly average, as far as cafeterias go. A few long tables, a counter where the food was served, chairs that looked uncomfortable as hell. “Food any good?” she asked.

“Well, I do try my best.” 

A head poked out over the counter from the kitchen – or rather, ducked out. He must’ve been at least seven feet tall, of some species Beau’d never seen before; pink hair tied back from his face, grayish complexion, a thin frame that didn’t give away that he was a chef. He offered her a wide, slow grin under half-lidded eyes.

“Hi,” he said, a drawl to his voice. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Caduceus Clay, the cook on this here lovely vessel.” 

“Beau,” responded Beau automatically. Caduceus lit up.

“Ah, yes, the stowaway. I heard we had one of those. Would you like some tea?”

Beau had to ponder that for a moment, before asking, “Does it cost anything?”

The question seemed to genuinely puzzle him. “It’s tea,” he said. “Why would it cost anything?”

“Then yes,” said Beau, before he had a chance to rescind the offer. She wasn’t one to decline free stuff.

He flashed her another grin and a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen. Beau turned back to Yasha.

“Is he always so–”

The woman was gone. Beau spun around and spotted her already halfway to the exit. Beau couldn’t help watching her; the muscular back, the long, white tips of her hair. It was two-colored, she noted; black on top an white at the bottom.

“Hey!” she called. “Can I have my staff back?”

“No.”

“Then how about your number?”

That got no response at all, and then the woman was gone.

“Oof, _harsh_.”

She turned back to the window to the kitchen, where a purple skinned tiefling had propped his elbows on the counter, grinning at her. He held up one hand, brandishing a steaming cup.

“I’m supposed to give you this. And also to welcome you to the ship, but I felt that’s a bit over and beyond my responsibilities.”

Beau stalked up to the counter and snatched the cup. It was porcelain, painted with tiny pink and purple flowers. Not something she'd expect on a spaceship.

“Nice, huh? Duceus brought ‘em. Clearly metal cups were ruining whatever vibe he was going for.”

“Clearly.”

“Wait till you see his kettle. Very old fashioned.”

She sipped the tea. Stopped. Looked at it. She’d had a lot of tea lately; it was practically all they drank at the monastery. None if tasted even remotely like this. “What’s _in_ this?”

“Dead people.”

She narrowed her eyes, bringing the cup up and taking another sip without breaking eye contact. “Everyone here’s a comedian, huh.”

“You have no idea.” He made a shooing gesture. “Now go. You’re holding up the line.”

There were approximately five other people in the room. They were all seated. Beau gave the tiefling another look, drank some more tea – it really was very good – and went to do some good old fashioned snooping.

* * *

The Cobalt Soul weren’t very big on technology. They liked archives – tagging systems, search algorithms, a good cypher – but that was about as far as it went. Everything Beau knew about coding and hacking was self-taught. Well, there was Tori, but that was more like communal learning than any kind of mentorship. Tori might’ve taught Beau the basics, but Beau was the one who figured out how to _develop_ them.

And then of course Tori ended up in jail and Beau got sent to the Cobalt Soul. Good times.

It wasn’t that she didn’t take Fjord’s threat seriously, except that’s exactly what it was. The guy practically reeked of posturing, and if Beau was going to be stuck in a flying tin can with a bunch of strangers, well; she wouldn’t be spending that time sitting on her assigned bunk, twiddling her thumbs. Secrets could buy leverage, and everyone had secrets. Independent research vessels headed for the creepy fuck-off moon no one liked especially.

It took her about one minute to hack the electronic lock to the lab. Well, one minute and two hours, counting the time spent waiting for everyone to fall asleep. At least that’s one good thing about shared sleeping quarters. Beau was grinning quietly to herself as the door slid open, allowing herself a moment of feeling pleased since she knew no one was there to see.

There were two people inside; a man in a white lab coat and a woman sitting on a workbench next to him, back to the door. Both turned to stare at her when the door hissed open.

“Uh,” Beau said. “Hello.”

 _Fuck_.

The man’s brow furrowed. “Hello,” he said.

“Caleb, is there someone there?” called a shrill, screechy voice from further in the lab. Beau looked for a third person and found only another man in a lab coat, way too absorbed in whatever he was doing to have said anything.

“ _Ja_ , there’s, um.” The creases in Caleb’s forehead deepened. “What are you doing here?”

Beau chewed the inside of her cheek. “Coffee run?” she suggested.

Before Caleb had a chance to respond the woman threw her feet over the work bench and bounced off, bounding towards Beau. Beau’s deeply ingrained instincts urged her to raise her fists. The woman’s face convinced her not to.

“Beau!” the woman crowed. “Fjord told me you were here but I couldn’t _find_ you. Caleb, isn’t this great? Beau is _so_ much fun, everyone’s going to love her.”

She pronounced his name _Cay-leb_ , a little bit drawn out. Beau would’ve recognized that accent anywhere, not to mention the blue skin and small, curled horns.

“Jester?” she said. “You’re here too?”

“Ya-up.” The tiefling grinned, showing off her tiny fangs and making the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Technically I’m the medic, but”–she leaned closer, lowering her voice–“really I’m here for the fun. It’s not like anyone’s _actually_ going to get hurt. We’re in _space_. There’s _nothing_ here.”

“Ah, you know each other,” said Caleb, sounding relieved. “Wonderful, that’s wonderful, maybe you should, ah, maybe you should go hang out in the cafeteria.”

“Don’t be silly, Caleb.” Jester made a dismissive gesture. “There’s no one in the cafeteria, not even Caduceus, and he practically lives there. I’d rather stay here.” She brightened. “It’s like a slumber party.”

Caleb’s shoulders slumped. “I see. I think I’m going to get some fresh air.”

And he walked out of the lab without another word.

“This place is just full of well-adjusted people,” said Beau drily.

“Hey, are you saying mean things about Caleb? Because I will not stand for that,” the shrill voice piped up. 

There was still no one else visible, excepting the second researcher, but now Beau could hear light feet patter quickly behind one of the counters. A halfling appeared at the end of it, tiny hands fisted on her hips.

“I can have you thrown out of this lab, you know,” she said.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Nott, this is Beau,” said Jester. “Beau, this is Nott.”

“The Brave,” added Nott, straightening.

“She’s an alchemist.” Jester beamed.

“And you’re not allowed in here.” How Nott managed such a condescending tone with a voice that shrill was beyond Beau.

“Fine, we’ll leave,” she said.

“No, Jester’s fine, I like her. She’s _nice_. But you’re clearly terrible. Just an awful, mean, unpleasant person.”

“No, no, Beau’s fine,” said Jester. “She can drink, like, an _entire_ mug of ale without breathing.”

“Impressive.”

There’s something off about Nott’s face. A subtle, can’t-put-your-finger-on-it kind of wrongness. Like she'd glued a thin layer of plastic over her features, muting all expressions a tiny bit. Then it clicked: it was a holomask. Beau’d never used one herself, but she bet if she tried poking Nott’s nose it’d have a different shape than it looked like.

She was also wearing a high necked turtleneck under her lab coat, and gloves on her clenched hands. No skin visible at all, excepting the face. Interesting.

The door slid open and Caleb stepped in, a metal cup smelling of strong coffee in one hand. He stopped when he spotted Jester and Beau.

“You’re still here,” he said. He didn’t quite look right at them, but rather at the space slightly behind. Beau thought maybe he’d turn around and walk back out.

“Sorry, Caleb,” said Nott. “I tried.”

“Caleb’s a wizard,” said Jester happily, either unaware of or ignoring the tension. Or possibly leaning into it. “You’re going to do research on Ruidus, aren’t you, Caleb?”

“ _Ja_ ,” he said, gaze flicking here and there. “That’s right, doing research, me and lord Thain.”

That finally caused the second man to look up from whatever he was doing in the other end of the lab. “Yes?”

“Oh, _Dezran_.”

Jester was like a whirlwind, breezing through the lab and hooking her arm through Dezran’s. He cringed away from her, and the way she grinned and leaned into him as she dragged him across the room told Beau that yeah, she was definitely embracing the awkwardness. Dezran’s free hand twitched in the air as if he wanted to grab one of the counters to pull himself free.

“Dezran’s a _lord_ ,” she said once they’d joined the rest of the group. “He does, like, _weird_ magic.”

“Hello,” Dezran said stiffly, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Dezran Thain, at your service.”

“Hi.” Beau eyed him. Both researchers were thin, light-skinned men, but unlike Caleb, who was human, Dezran was elven, pointy ears clearly showing under short, blond hair. He also looked a lot more, well, _put together_. Very straight-backed and clean cut. Caleb, meanwhile, needed a shave and a good haircut, and the collar poking up from under the lab coat looked moth eaten and kind of gross. The way he moved reminded Beau of a rat looking for a place to hide, possibly so it could nervously chew its own tail.

He was skulking around right now, making the most of the distraction he’d created.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Beau asked, voice raised.

He glanced at her without stopping whatever he was up to. On the counter in front of him wasn’t just a coffee cup, but enough incense to start a small fire. “Getting my cat.”

“Your cat?” Beau frowned. “What, do you lure it with incense instead of food?”

“If only it was that easy.”

In the corner of her eye, Beau saw Dezran extracting himself from Jester’s grip. Jester let it happen, and walked up with Beau to look at the circle Caleb was making.

“I can do magic too, you know.” She leaned forward over the counter to poke at the sigils Caleb were drawing. He caught her wrist without looking and gently moved it aside.

“I’m sure”, he said, letting her go when her hand was a safe distance away.

“Yeah! I’m a cleric.” She puffed up a little. “Ever heard of the Traveler?”

“No.”

Caleb finished his circle, muttered something under his breath, did some gestures and suddenly there was an orange tabby sitting on the counter. Jester cooed excitedly, whatever she’d been about to say about her patron god or goddess forgotten. Beau couldn’t help but draw nearer as well. She had to admit that having a pocket cat was pretty cool.

“I didn’t know pets were allowed,” she said, scratching the cat’s ears. It immediately started purring.

“Frumpkin’s a special cat.”

“I'm sure he still sheds, though.”

Caleb looked up at her, something sharp in his eyes that hadn't been there before. “And I’m sure you’re not allowed in the labs.”

“Hey, hey.” Beau held up her hands. “I’m not gonna rat you out.” She knew better than to waste good blackmail material. “Besides,” she added, looking over at Nott, “it’s not like I’m the only sketchy person in this room.”

Nott stiffened. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

Beau pointed at her own face, returning her other hand to petting Frumpkin. “I’ve been around enough criminals to recognize a holomask when I see one.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Beau shrugged. “I’m stating fact.”

Nott hissed at her. Caleb glanced at Dezran, who’d gone back to work and wasn’t as much as looking at them. “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice, “Nott’s been through a rough time. We’re just trying to move on with our lives in peace, no problems for anyone.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask,” Beau said. “All I’m doing is making sure you know that it’s in everyone’s best interest to stay on my good side.”

Next to her Jester had forgotten about Frumpkin and was instead leaning closer to Nott. “You’re wearing a _mask_?” she asked.

Nott fidgeted and glanced at Dezran. “Ah…”

As if he’d heard her look, Dezran said, “I really don’t care, as long as you don’t touch my research. It’s very sensitive.”

“Do you have a scar?” Jester said, almost a whisper. “I could help, probably; I’m a cleric.”

“Maay-bee,” Nott said, drawing the word out into twice the syllables.

“Pretty sure she isn’t actually a halfling,” Beau said. She’d given in to the temptation and picked Frumpkin up. The cat nuzzled against her and lovingly headbutted her face. “They aren’t usually that skinny, and she’s all covered, hands and neck and everything. Also, the teeth.” She tried pointing at her mouth and nearly dropped the cat. “They show when you hiss.”

Nott slapped a hand over her mouth and its pointy teeth, glaring at Beau.

“Goblins aren’t exactly welcomed on most ships, independent or not,” Caleb muttered.

“Again, _I don’t care_.”

“I don’t either,” said Jester firmly. “Tieflings aren’t exactly welcomed in a lot of places, either.”

“At least they don’t throw you in a cell for the crime of breathing on civilized land.” Nott was still fidgeting, but her shoulders had relaxed minutely. Jester smiled at her and she smiled hesitantly back, showing off two rows of small, crooked, and very sharp teeth. Beau made a mental note of not getting within biting distance.

“Whether you care or not,” said Caleb as Nott and Jester talked. “If you get her in trouble, I will burn you to a crisp.”

He was surprisingly good at being quietly threatening, for such an awkward guy. Whatever; Beau could break him like a twig if she wanted. She looked at him over his magic cat. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Beau,” said Jester suddenly. “Where are you supposed to sleep?”

* * *

Turns out befriending Jester – or rather, letting Jester befriend her – was the right decision. No one could say no to her. No one could even raise their voice against her. They tried sometimes, if they found her doodling on the walls or rearranging tools in the lab, but then she’d give them one of her too-innocent-to-be-innocent looks, and they’d just sigh and ask her to leave.

Beau wasn’t technically allowed outside the common areas, but no one stood in their way as Jester dragged her around the ship. There were a few raised eyebrows when she moved out of the crew’s shared sleeping space to Jester’s room, but there really wasn’t anything to it (not that Beau would’ve said no, had Jester offered). It was just the way Jester was. She didn’t like being alone, and she had so much to talk about. Also, she kind of wanted a co-conspirator. Beau tried telling her that maybe the known stowaway wasn’t the most reliable alibi whenever a harmless prank went down, but Jester hadn’t listened.

“It’s either you or Nott,” she’d said, “and I already used Nott that one time when I switched that rude guy’s, you know, the one in engineering, shampoo for dye. People will get suspicious if I don’t vary my witnesses.”

Beau accepted. It wasn't like she wanted to sleep in a room with a bunch of strangers, anyway. And Jester was… nice. Which was weird, in and of itself. People usually weren’t nice without some secret motive, in Beau's experience. But Jester didn’t do secrets. Ask her something and she’d tell you what you wanted and more. They’d only been hanging out for a few days and Beau already knew she had recently left home for the first time due to a prank gone wrong, knew her mother but not her father, was a rich kid (which would’ve been a strike against her if Beau wasn’t also, technically, a rich kid), and considered her patron god her best and for a long time only friend. A little tragic, really, but Jester only seemed puzzled when Beau mentioned that.

Even the first mate loosened up around her. Apparently they’d met some time before takeoff and traveled together to port. He’d been the one who helped get her the job.

He found them on the observation deck a few days after Beau was dragged from behind storage crates, gave them a look, and quirked a small smile.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Jester said.

Beau wanted to protest out of obligation, but it really was beautiful. More stars than she’d ever seen from Exandria. Enough to make her a bit dizzy, like if she leaned forward she’d tip right through the glass and fall forever through the darkness between them.

“We’ll be at Halfway station tomorrow,” said Fjord, stopping next to Jester. She inched imperceptibly closer to him and grinned when his cheeks flushed. He raised his voice a little. “Then it’s another two weeks to Ruidus.”

Beau frowned. “I thought there wouldn’t be any extra stops. You know, the whole ‘having to deal with each other’ thing.”

“Halfway doesn’t count,” said Fjord. “They have very few visitors. We’d just have to pick you back up on our way home, and who knows what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten into by then.” He grinned at her, and Beau simultaneously relaxed and glared at him. Then she frowned.

“Wait. Did you say _two weeks_?”

“What did you expect? It’s space travel. It’s a long way.”

“But _two weeks_.”

“Ruidus is fucking weird,” Fjord defended himself. “There’s all these magnetic anomalies. We have to go in slowly.”

Beau grumbled to herself. “Two weeks. All I needed was a place to hide for ten minutes. _God_.”

“Who were you hiding from?” asked Jester brightly.

“My ex,” Beau lied. Just because Jester was honest didn’t mean she had to be. Still, it made something twinge inside her. That usually didn’t happen.

Fjord snorted. “Everyone here’s running from something, I guess.”

“Yeah? What’s your baggage?” said Beau, half to take the attention away from herself, half hoping she’d find some good blackmail material.

Fjord hesitated, then glanced down at Jester, who gazed wide-eyed up at him. He sighed.

“There was… an accident. On the last ship I worked on. I was the only one who made it out.”

Beau hadn’t expected something so depressing. “That sucks,” she said.

“It sounds really scary,” said Jester, still doing her wide-eyed thing but looking more genuine about it now. “Was that why you were out travelling when we first met? To, like, find yourself?”

Fjord tipped his head from side to side. “In a way. I learned there was a lot I didn’t know about myself, after the accident. I needed to get away from things for a while.”

“Why go back to space, then?” asked Beau. “You could just stay on solid ground.”

“Missed it.” Fjord gazed out the viewing window. “I don’t think anything could ever make me scared of the stars, not really.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, I wanted to visit Ruidus. Lots of strange magic going on there.”

“Oh, you do magic too?” Jester brightened.

“Only a little. It’s… new.” He flexed one hand by his side, as if reaching for something.

“Well, I’ve been doing magic for a while,” said Jester. “The Traveler’s been teaching me.”

“Right, the Traveler; that’s your god, isn’t it? You mentioned him a few times.”

The way he said it made Beau think it had probably been more than ‘a few times.’

“He’s _amazing_ ,” said Jester. “You haven’t seen anyone pull a prank until you’ve seen him do it.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him before.” Beau weighed her words carefully. She didn’t really care about gods, but the Empire could be… touchy, about which one you worshipped.

“Meh.” Jester waved a hand. “No one cares about whether a god is _legal_ or not in Nicodranas. The Traveler is clearly the coolest god, and so he’s my god.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Could be your god, too. Though you’d be second to me, of course.”

“No thanks, already got one,” said Beau.

“Yeah, I’m good,” agreed Fjord.

“Besides, he seems kind of creepy,” added Beau.

Jester gasped. “He’s not!”

“I don’t know. You said he’s your best friend. That’s not the usual god-follower relationship, I think.”

“Do you _know_ any other clerics?”

“Well, no-”

“And all the other gods seem super boring,” added Jester. “All this _meditation_ and _praying_.” She made a face, as if the words tasted bad. “What’s wrong with just talking? It’s like they don’t even want followers.” She sniffed.

“You know what?” said Beau. “Fair enough.”

“Anyway,” Fjord said, a bit awkwardly. “Halfway station, tomorrow.” He turned to leave.

“Can I leave the ship?” Beau called after him.

“Just stick with the crew,” Fjord called back. “And for the love of the gods, don’t steal anything.”

They waited till he was gone, surrounded only by humming ventilation and quietly blinking stars.

“We’re totally stealing something,” said Jester.

* * *

It really shouldn’t have surprised Beau to find out that Halfway was a tiny, boring tin-can rolling ass over teakettle through space. Somehow it still did.

“This is it?” she said, standing with Jester outside the docked ship in the small, cramped bay area. Crates and tools were scattered all over the place to the point that it was practically a labyrinth, forcing people to move sideways whenever they met anyone so as not to get stuck. The fluorescents were flickering and the ventilation system made an unhappy whining noise. “This is our only stop before Ruidus?”

Fjord clapped a hand on her shoulder as he walked by. “Have fun.”

She tried slapping his hand off but he was already striding off between the junk littering the space.

“This sucks,” Beau muttered, righting her jacket. “I thought there’d at least be a bar or something.”

“Why would you think that?”

It was Caleb, the shifty wizard guy, his halfling/goblin friend practically glued at the hip. He’d stopped just outside the ship too, and was seemingly using Beau as a cover while he shiftily looked around in his shifty way.

“It’s a research station and halfway point,” he continued. “It only has a staff of about five people.”

“Why halfway point, though?” said Jester. “It’s not actually halfway.”

“It is if you’re going to Catha.”

“Catha’s the boring, normal moon, though. I don’t get why anyone’d want to go there.”

Caleb just shrugged. Next to him Nott pulled on a hood and looked around in an, if possible, even more shifty way.

“Well, Fjord said there’s a cafeteria,” said Beau, “so I guess that’s where I’m going.” It’s not like she had a job to do. “Jester, you coming?”

There was definitely more than five people on Halfway station, even counting everyone from their ship. There was a group of shifty looking people – so many shifty individuals on the same station all at once – occupying a corner table in the cafeteria, eating what seemed like at least half the available food.

“I don’t get it,” said Beau as she and Jester sat down with a cup of tea each. The place didn’t even serve alcohol. “Why even come here? Why does _anyone_ come here?” She made a half-hearted gesture at the shifty group.

“Trading, probably,” said Jester, ignoring her tea and tearing at a muffin packet. “Or refueling, or to get news and information. Apparently there aren’t many places to stop between the moons and Exandria.”

“Still.” Beau drank some tea and had to put it down. She’d already gotten spoiled by Caduceus and his superior tea supply. “Why’re _we_ here? It’s not like we don’t have enough supplies.”

Jester shrugged. She’d finally freed her muffin and now focused on tearing it apart with her fingers. “Fjord said the captain needed to talk to someone.” She skeptically eyed a sliver of muffin. There’d only been the one kind. “And I think the wizards wanted to share research or something, I don’t know. Caleb said something about needing paper.” She ate the piece of muffin, made a face, and immediately took another. “This is _terrible_.”

“They have sandwiches.”

“’They have sandwiches,’” Jester mimicked. She took an angry bite of muffin and muttered, under her breath, “ _Terrible_. Doesn’t even have frosting.”

The people at the corner table glanced their way. Beau bared her teeth at them in a half smile, half snarl. It worked better when there was blood in her mouth, but it was still pretty effective. All of them but an elven woman with long red hair and an ostentatious hat looked away. The woman just gave her an appraising look, corner of her mouth quirked up. She was very good looking, in a dangerous sort of way. Beau might have gone for it if the ship wasn’t set to leave in less than half an hour.

“Hey, Jester,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your deal? I mean, most people don’t get on a ship to nowhere on their first trip from home.” She thought of Caleb and Dezran, excitedly discussing theories and measurements over lunch. “Excluding weird, obsessed wizards,” she amended.

“Well.” Jester let her hands fall down on the table, still holding the apparently terrible muffin. “You know how the Traveler is my best friend?”

“You mentioned.”

Jester hesitated. It was a weird look on her. “He can’t really be with me all the time. He’s there whenever I do a spell, and sometimes he shows up to chat, but he’s a _god_ , he’s very busy. And I didn’t… I didn’t really have anyone else, after I had to leave my mama.”

She fell quiet. Beau started regretting she’d asked; she didn’t handle awkwardness well. But then Jester smiled, and it was convincing enough to make Beau wonder if she’d imagined the sadness.

“And then I met Fjord, and he got a job here, and I figured why not come with? Space is always really exciting in all the stories.”

“Space is a big nothing,” Beau said, immediately felt mean, and added, “It’s really pretty, though.”

Jester shrugged. “I haven’t really got anywhere else to be, not until things calm down back home.”

“There’s nothing you want to do?”

Jester shrugged. “I’d like to find my dad. Don’t know where to start, though. Mama had no idea where he went.”

“You’re not missing out on much,” said Beau. “Dads are the worst.”

Jester’s eyes got big. “Why do you say that?”

Beau could feel herself start to sweat. “They just are,” she said defensively. “The more nice and happy a family seems, the more you can bet they’re all actually miserable.”

“My mama and I were happy,” said Jester. “She’s the _best_. You should come hear her sing, Beau, after this trip’s over.”

Beau nearly mentioned how Jester had been sent away; how she’d been isolated and friendless to the point that her only friend was, possibly, imagined; how her dad had left and her mom apparently told her nothing about him. Usually she wouldn’t bother being nice about it, but Jester was just so… Jester.

“Yeah, well,” she muttered. “There’s always exceptions.”

Jester raised a hand in the air and smiled widely. “Guys, over here!”

Beau looked over her shoulder. Caleb and Nott walked in, followed by a scowling Fjord. Caleb slunk across the cafeteria and sat down next to Beau without ordering anything. Nott followed, but looked like she was bristling rather than slinking. Fjord took a seat next to Jester.

“What’s up?” said Jester.

“Nothing,” Nott muttered. She was eyeing Jester’s torn apart muffin.

“Yes, clearly there was nothing going on,” said Fjord drily. Nott glared at him, then made an obvious attempt to gather herself.

“Could I maybe please have my flask back?”

“No.”

Nott went back to glaring.

“Did something happen?” asked Beau.

Nott fidgeted. “I might have… sticky fingers, sometimes. Drinking _helps_.”

“You were drinking when I caught you trying to steal,” said Fjord.

“I didn’t say it _always_ helps.”

Beau automatically checked her pockets. She didn’t have many belongings, but nothing seemed to be missing.

“We’ve not even been here twenty minutes,” said Fjord. “Can we please not start any trouble?”

“It’s not like I would’ve gotten caught,” Nott muttered.

“That’s not the point, I just-” Fjord sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get back to the ship. None of you have anything to do here anyway, you can wait for the captain to finish her talk onboard.”

“I didn’t even get any paper,” Caleb muttered as they got up.

Something weird happened as they went to leave. Fjord was taking the lead, playing commander, and as Beau took the rear her gaze again landed on the group in the corner. Mostly she wanted to get one last look at the red haired woman.

The woman wasn’t looking at her. Instead she leaned in as one of the men whispered something in her ear, and then both their gazes snapped to Fjord. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy poking Nott whenever she looked a bit too hungrily at some passerby’s pockets, but Beau did. They eyed him like hungry wolves, the man with a scowl and the woman with a slow smile that made something shiver inside Beau. 

She didn’t realize she’d stopped until the woman’s gaze snapped to her. She did the eyebrow thing again.

“What?” said Beau sharply. “Is there something on my face?”

The smile grew on the woman’s lips. “Wouldn’t want to miss your ride, darling.” Her voice was smooth and deep. The already shivery part of Beau curled up a little. She couldn’t think of a single comeback.

She quietly slunk out of the cafeteria.

* * *

She couldn’t sleep that night.

It might’ve been the humming ventilation system that kept her awake, or the occasional slight vibration in the floor and walls as the engines course corrected. Maybe it was just restlessness. It’s not that she wasn’t used to being cooped up, but a spaceship was different from a tiny dorm room; there was no getting out, no matter how good she was at sneaking. If she got enough of a cabin fever to try she’d end up in a vacuum. At least it’d be a pretty place to die, surrounded by all the quiet, faraway stars. But Beau had never planned on a peaceful death. People like her didn’t get peace. She’d end her days in a ditch somewhere, swollen face and blood on her fists.

She got up after having stared at the ceiling for an hour and tip toed out of the room she shared with Jester. The tiefling didn’t as much as move; she slept like a rock. Beau still held her breath as the door slid open, and didn’t start breathing again until it closed behind her.

She didn’t know where to go. In the monastery she somehow always ended up in the library when she couldn’t sleep. It was the closest thing they had to a hangout spot, not counting the exercise halls. Beau had never read as much as she did during her stay with there. She’d like to say it was all boring, dusty bullshit. It wasn’t. She’s still not sure whether she ended up coming back and picking up armful after armful of books because she found herself enjoying it, or because the alternative was sitting alone in a corner, watching the others talk and give her snide looks. Well, picking fights was also an alternative. She did that a lot, too.

Somehow she ended up on the observation deck. It shouldn’t make any difference whether it was day or night shift; the same dark sky, the same twinkling stars. The same blank walls inside and out, cold when she pushed a hand to it. She’d always known time was, in a sense, made up, but it’d never been as obvious as up here. Still, at least there’d be less of a chance of someone walking in on her.

Someone walked in on her ten minutes in.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone’d be here.”

The voice made her jump, and when Beau turned around Yasha was standing just inside the open door. She looked uncertain in a way Beau wasn’t used to, shifting from foot to foot as if contemplating leaving.

“No, it’s fine,” Beau said. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the window, and had to lean on one hand to keep her eyes on Yasha. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“I should probably throw you out, then.”

Beau barked a laugh, and after a moment Yasha smiled a bit too. Good; Beau hadn’t been entirely sure it was a joke.

“Wanna sit?” she asked.

Yasha hesitated. “Well, I don’t know…”

“I could leave if you want to be alone.”

“No, it’s fine,” Yasha said quickly. “You were here first.”

“It’s not a kindergarten,” Beau said drily. “I don’t think I can call dibs.” She patted the floor next to her. “If you wanna sit, sit.”

Yasha hesitated a moment longer, then she, to Beau’s genuine surprise, actually walked over and sat. Beau turned back to the window and tried not to look at her. Next to Yasha’s muscles the stars suddenly didn’t seem very interesting anymore.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asked.

A moment of quiet. “I usually go to the greenhouse,” Yasha said finally. “But I wanted to look at the view tonight.”

“The greenhouse, huh? You a gardener?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Caduceus’s the gardener.” Yasha turned her hands over each other in her lap. Beau hadn’t taken her for a fidgeter. “I just like the colors. The rest of the ship is very drab.”

“Not a fan of metal corridors?”

“Not really.”

“Why take a job on a spaceship, then?”

“Molly wanted to.”

“Molly?” Beau squinted. “You mean the guy in the kitchen? The tiefling?”

“Yes.”

That was certainly two puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. Mollymauk the ostentatious, obnoxious tiefling who wouldn’t shut up, and Yasha the quiet, black-clad fighter who could barely string a sentence together. Wonder how that happened.

Beau said, “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You two known each other long?”

“A few years. We used to work together, at a circus, and when that fell through we wanted to keep travelling for a bit.”

“A _circus_?”

“Yes?” Yasha sounded uncertain. “You don’t like circuses?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Beau gestured at Yasha. “I can’t imagine you at a circus.”

“I was a fire breather.”

Beau caught herself looking at Yasha’s lips. “Wait, seriously? That’s fucking hot. Like, literally.”

“I did juggling, too.”

“Now you’re messing with me.”

“Yeah. I did security. Molly juggles, though. And does tarot.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Beau muttered.

“You should ask him for a reading.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would literally rather die.”

Yasha frowned suddenly, leaning closer to the glass. Soft starlight lit up her face. Beau noticed she’d washed off the face paint, but still had a vertical line beneath her lower lip. A tattoo, maybe? There was also something poking out from underneath the hair at her neck, only just visible. Metallic. Smooth. An implant of some sort? Beau’d seen people with metal arms and legs and the like, but no one generally stuck electronics in their heads unless they were really hardcore about tech. Somehow Yasha didn’t strike her as the type. Beau let her gaze slide back to Yasha’s face.

“Do you see that?” asked Yasha.

“Yeah. Looks good.”

Yasha either didn’t notice that Beau was looking at her or chose to ignore it. “I think it’s a ship.”

Beau gave up and looked away. 

She didn’t see anything at first, just the stars. The window was on the wrong side of the ship if you wanted to look at the moons or Exandria. Then she noticed it; a dark shape moving towards them, blotting out the starlight in patches.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Definitely a ship.”

“Radar should’ve noticed,” Yasha murmured. She picked a small comms device from a belt at her hip. It was dark and quiet. “The ship can’t see it.” She got up. “I should wake Fjord up.”

“Is this a problem?”

“Maybe. Could just be the radar malfunctioning, but if not…” She frowned, looking out the window again. “It might be-”

A small light took off from the far-off ship.

“Hey Yasha,” said Beau as it headed straight for them. “Could I maybe have my staff back now?”


	2. A Pirate's Life for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb has a very bad night.

Caleb flailed his way out of bed, the hollow thud of his body impacting with the floor completely drowned out by the blaring alarm. He managed to sit up, already feeling like he was starting to bruise.

“What’s going on?” He had to half scream to make himself heard over the noise.

“I have no idea!” Nott screamed back. “I think we’re all about to die!” She was clutching her crossbow and shoving their meagre belongings into a bag, as if that would somehow help.

Frumpkin was meowing miserably in a corner.

“ _Ja, ja_ , I’m very sorry about the noise.” Caleb snapped his fingers and pointed to the door. Frumpkin gave him a condescending look – seeing as he was a cat, that was most of his looks – and the slunk over to it. Caleb stumbled after, still not quite awake, and slapped the wall panel, making the door open. He stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, as Frumpkin left his and Nott’s shared room. Then he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was somewhere else.

The hallway appeared empty. Frumpkin walked the corridors until he came to a junction, and Caleb didn’t recognize it at first, looking up from the lower vantage point. Then someone – two someones – ran past, feet thundering, and Frumpkin turned to follow.

“Yasha, seriously, give me my staff,” called the smaller figure. Beauregard, the stowaway who asked too many questions and saw more than he liked. She moved like someone who ran all day without getting tired; Caleb could feel himself start sweating just from watching. At least Frumpkin could keep up.

The other figure – Yasha, one of the security personnel – didn’t answer. She just kept running until they reached the first mate’s quarters, where they almost crashed right into Fjord as he left the room, pants unbuttoned and only one arm in his uniform shirt.

“What’s going on?” he said, spinning half a turn as he tried to get his other arm into its sleeve. “Is someone _shooting_ at us?”

“Raiders,” said Yasha. “They were hidden from our radar somehow.”

Fjord swore. “Well that’s just fantastic. Are our shields holding up?”

He started moving through the corridors towards what Caleb assumed was the bridge. Yasha and Beau followed, Frumpkin a bit behind them, unnoticed.

“So far,” said Yasha. “But I don’t think they’re trying to shoot us down. The missiles are too small for that.”

“What are they after, then?” Fjord waved his arms. “That’s how raiders operate, right? Fuck you up, then go in and safely pick through the rubble.”

“Maybe they’re looking for someone,” Beau suggested. “Someone they want alive. Or they’re after information.”

Fjord opened his mouth to say something, but was caught off guard by a sneeze.

“What the…” He rubbed his face and looked over his shoulder. “Is that a _cat_?”

Caleb snapped out of Frumpkin’s vision.

“It seems someone’s trying to board us,” he said, a bit unsteady on his feet. He’d had his familiar for a while now, but it’s still disorienting to go from his own eyes to someone else’s and back again.

“Board us?” screeched Nott. “Why would they do that? We have nothing!”

That wasn't entirely true. They might not be a mining vessel full of valuable minerals, or a transport packed with rare goods from one of the colonies, but they still carried things of worth. Him and lord Thain, for one. The spells and theories they were working on, the measurements they’d already taken as they got closer to Ruidus. And if Beau’s right that might be exactly what the raiders were after.

Or it might be her they were looking for. No one knew anything about her; she was just a random stowaway who skulked around the hallways and spied on people. She might be running away from something.

She wouldn’t be the only one, though Caleb doubted his past would follow him up here.

“Come on.” He picked up his coat – not the white one he was required to wear in the lab, but his trusty old brown one, pockets full of spell components, every single one of them in its exact place – and shrugged it on, a comforting weight over his shoulders. “We should get ready for a fight.”

* * *

Lord Thain stepped out of his room, the one next to theirs, only moments after Caleb and Nott left theirs. Probably he’d been waiting for someone to pass by. He was as immaculate as always, but had just as Caleb opted for a more informal, comfortable attire. Unlike Caleb, his “comfortable attire” meant a dark blue, floor length wizard’s robe, not a leather coat that’d seen its heydays about two decades ago.

“Any idea what’s going on?” he asked, easily catching up to them.

“Raiders,” said Caleb. He stuck a hand in an outer pocket, almost obsessively counting through the components there: tiny bags of soot and salt and phosphorus, a small feather that stroked softly against his fingers, a short copper wire, identical to the one Nott carried. He grabbed for it.

“Ah,” said lord Thain. His lips were tightly pursed when Caleb glanced at him. “I guess a quiet journey was too much to hope for.” 

“ _Ja_ , seems so.”

The screaming alarms quieted so suddenly it left a ringing silence I Caleb’s ears.

“This is an emergency,” said a female voice through the intercom. It sparked a chilly note of recognition in the back of Caleb’s mind, but he couldn’t place it. Perhaps someone he’d talked to at the docks, before the ship took off. “I expect all personnel to take their posts and prepare for battle. I repeat, all personnel at their post, _now_.”

Caleb stopped listening. He doubted he’d be of any use in the lab. Also, he seemed to have lost lord Thain.

“Where did…” He stopped and looked around. “Where did he go?”

“Dezran?” Nott pointed at a junction a few feet behind them. “He went that way. But Caleb-”

Caleb did a 180, grabbed Nott’s raised arm as he passed her and hurried after Thain. Nott made a surprised squeaking noise.

Thain looked up, eyebrows raised, as they caught up with him.

“We should stay in a group,” Caleb panted, already winded from the short run. “Safety in numbers, _ja_?”

“I can protect you,” Nott muttered, and Caleb gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She was still clutching her crossbow.

“Very well.” Thain turned and kept walking. “I’m headed to engineering. You’re free to come if you want.”

“Engineering?” said Nott. “Why? You’re not an engineer.” She peered suspiciously at him and moved her fingers a little closer to the crossbow’s trigger. Thain either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“I am, actually,” he said.

“Yeah, but are you a _spaceship_ engineer?”

He glanced at her without slowing down. Caleb thought maybe he saw a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Close enough.”

There was a clang in front of them, followed by a scream and a thud, as if someone’d just collapsed. Caleb snapped his fingers and Frumpkin appeared at his feet.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching down blindly. Nott grabbed his hand without asking and he slipped into Frumpkin’s vision.

He heard through Frumpkin’s ears Thain asking what he’s doing, and left it up to Nott to explain. Frumpkin trotted quickly along the hallway and slunk around a corner.

There was a body on the floor, at the other end of the hallway. Three people were standing over it, one of them rifling through its pockets and the others scanning the corridor. Caleb repeated what he saw, feeling his mouth move but not hearing the words, as Frumpkin moved closer, keeping close to the wall.

“This is ridiculous,” said one of the intruders. “All this for one guy? And we’re not even going to ransom him.”

“Could ransom the rest of them, though,” said another. He poked the body with the toe of his boot. “Assuming you lot don’t kill them all.”

The third one, the one kneeling over the body, shoved his foot away. “I was aiming for his legs,” she protested. “Not my fault he tripped all over himself.”

“Man, you fucking suck.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. Deciding whatever she might find wasn’t worth it, she got up and brushed herself off. “Besides, captain said the half-orc was the only one that mattered. The rest of ‘em can drop dead for all she cares.”

“They’re looking for a half-orc,” Caleb murmured, careful to keep his voice low. He could feel a hand on his shoulder – Thain’s, presumably – but Nott was still holding his hand and no one was trying to drag his body anywhere, so he stayed in Frumpkin’s vision. “Maybe the first mate, I don’t know. Says everyone else can drop dead.”

“Hey,” said one of the raiders, “is that a fucking cat?”

This was starting to become a pattern. Frumpkin meowed innocently.

“We should grab it,” said another. “ _The Mist_ has rats.”

Caleb would’ve protested, hiding place be damned, but just then the hand on his shoulder gripped tighter and he was shoved back first against a wall.

He snapped back into himself just as a bullet flew past his face. Thain had an arm over his chest where he’d shoved Caleb back and Nott was standing in front of them in the middle of the corridor, under the immediate line of fire.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” Caleb gasped. Nott fired her crossbow and went invisible all in one breath.

Four raiders had entered the hallway behind them. One of them already had a crossbow bolt sticking out of his neck, and as Caleb watched a tiny red light blinked once before the entire thing blew up. It wasn’t a very big blast, but a human throat wasn’t very durable. It was a specialty of Nott’s; bullets and other ballistic weapons were always a risky move in space and noisy to boot, and a lot harder to modify, assuming you didn’t want to blow your own fingers off. Bolts, which had no interfering tech, took easier to magic and simple upgrades such as small charges of explosives or acid.

Caleb’s mind had whited out, and he dug through his pockets without really knowing what he was looking for. Another bullet zinged his way and would probably have hit him if Thain hadn’t put up a shield. Caleb gasped as the barrier pulsed with the impact.

“Okay, okay.” His hand found something familiar and he gripped it tightly. “Nott!” he shouted. “Back up!”

He held out one hand, focusing on the space between them and the raiders. An amber light flashed, and for a moment a spectral image of a cat floated in the air. Then it swelled, became real, physical, and a giant cat’s paw clawed at the intruders. They shouted and tried to dive aside, but the paw managed to grab one of them and pin him to the wall, arms against his sides. He gave a cry when a suddenly visible bolt appeared in his upper thigh, while somewhere between them Nott crowed in victory. Lucky for him it wasn’t an explosive.

“Impressive.” Thain took a step forward, raising his arms. “My turn.”

One of the two remaining raiders floated up into the air, a surprised look on her face. Thain closed his fist and the woman squished inward, dead in an instant.

“Ah,” said Caleb, a little shakily. “That is quite good.”

Thain looked pleased.

One of the intruders were still standing, and Caleb was just about to deal with that when something made one of his legs buckle. It took him a moment to realize someone had shot him from behind. He gave a cry as he fell and caught himself as best he could. Small, invisible hands grabbed at him and he nearly threw a fire bolt at them before realizing it was Nott.

“Caleb,” she said. “Caleb are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he ground out, managing to lift one hand and put a flimsy shield over them.

Thain had whipped around, hands raised as he shoved at the three raiders from the other hallway with a wave of telekinesis. They stumbled, but the wave was too broad to do any real damage.

“Spell casters,” one of them growled. “Let’s just kill them.”

Then his face disappeared in a green blast.

The other two turned, shouted, tried to shoot, but a powerful figure plowed right into them, roaring and seemingly absorbing bullets like a sponge does water. It was followed by another, smaller and quicker and armed with a long staff, dodging under the swings of the first as it went for the legs of the raiders. Caleb fell back against the wall, watching as Beau and Yasha made short work of the intruders.

Then he felt a twinge. Not quite something physical, but a back-of-his-mind sort of tingle of someone messing with one of his spells. He turned and saw the two survivors of the first group, one of them trying to free the other from the wall by hacking at the cat’s claw with a laser sword.

“ _Nein, du kannst nicht_ …” 

Caleb tried to stand as he spoke, but his leg immediately gave out. The two raiders didn’t even look at him. Caleb turned the other way.

“Beauregard!” he called, and when the stowaway turned toward him he pointed at the problem. She started to move seemingly without thinking, but there was an entire hallway between her and the two attempting their escape, and by this point the one pinned to the wall had almost managed to get an arm free and was trying to raise a gun, aiming for the new threat. Caleb stuck a hand in his inner pocket, found the pieces of licorice – he so rarely got to use them – and cast Haste on Beau.

There was a moment of confusion as she took a step and her legs became blur. She stopped and stared at herself. Did a couple of test blows. Then a grin spread across her lips and she took off down the hallway, dodging projectiles as if they’d been thrown under water. Caleb thought he heard her say something as she went by – probably a comment on the “coolness” of the situation – but her voice was too quick to make out. It took her less than three seconds to take out the one with the sword, fists and legs a whirlwind around her, and then to snap around and knock out the half-freed one with one quick punch.

Silence fell over the hallway. The only sound were gasping breaths and small groans of pain.

“That,” said Beau, “was fucking _awesome_.” She was still bouncing from foot to foot in a hard to make out blur. “Who did that? Caleb, was it you? Did you do that?”

“Caleb can do powerful magic,” said Nott, pride in her voice. She’d gone visible again and was now poking at Caleb’s injured leg. It hurt, but didn’t seem too serious; just a flesh wound. He hoped the medic was as good a healer as she claimed to be.

“It was just a Haste spell,” he said, trying to get to his feet. “It will wear off in a minute.”

He wobbled, and before he had a chance to catch himself Beau was there, grabbing him and hauling him up quick enough to make him dizzy.

“Could you do it again? Could you make it permanent?”

“No,” he said, leaning on her shoulder. “You have ten seconds. _Neun, acht_ …”

Beau made a face, lugged him over to Thain and took off again to show off for Yasha.

Thain was not very strong. He and Caleb wobbled in tandem for a bit, dangerously close to tipping over, before finding their balance. Further down the hallway Beau made a disappointed “aw” sound when the spell went out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” said Nott from somewhere around Caleb’s knees. She gave his leg a dubious look. “You’re bleeding a lot.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“We should get you to medical, or find someplace to hide.” Nott glanced suspiciously around the hallway. “These people can handle things on their own.”

Caleb wanted to agree. He wasn’t one to get into fights he might not walk out of, and he had no idea how many intruders there might be. But that’s exactly what made him hesitate. The raiders might win. They might take the ship. If they did, everyone on it – including Caleb and Nott – would be as good as dead.

“It can wait,” he said. “We’ll just put a bandage on it for now.”

Nott swore, took a long swig from her flask – Caleb wasn’t sure if Fjord had returned it or if she’d simply stolen it back – and promptly went invisible again.

“If I could, perhaps,” said Thain, loud enough to be heard over Beau’s excited talking but somehow not yelling, “get some assistance over here.”

He looked close to buckling, but still kept a neutral face. Caleb followed his gaze and noticed not just Beau and Yasha, but the first mate as well, which made for some interesting conundrums. Neither Yasha nor Beau were magic users, as far as Caleb could tell; they were much too physical in their fighting styles, too reliant on fists and weapons, which left only Fjord as the one responsible for that green blast. Caleb wouldn’t have taken him for a magic user, either.

Fjord squeezed passed the two women and headed over.

“I’ll help,” he said, and Thain gratefully handed Caleb over.

“Really, it’s not that bad,” Caleb tried, but Fjord just placed Caleb’s arm over his shoulders and, yeah, he was definitely steadier to lean on than Thain, though still a bit wobbly under Caleb's weight. “Thanks,” Caleb mumbled.

“It’s no problem," Fjord said, clearly pretending he was under no strain at all. He nodded at the bodies strewn across the floor. “You did that?”

“ _Ja_ , well, me and Nott and lord Thain.”

“Huh. I didn’t think you science people would be of much use in a fight. No offense.”

“Yes, who’d have thought that the ones able to bend the laws of the universe to their will could be dangerous,” said Thain drily. “Will wonders never cease?” He dusted off his blue robes, frowning at the blood stains Caleb had left on them.

“I said no offence.” Fjord frowned, noticing the raider that was still hanging limply from the cat’s claw. “Is that guy still alive?”

“I’ll check.” 

It was Nott, still invisible and right next to them. Caleb felt Fjord damn near jump out of his skin.

“ _Fuck_.” Fjord felt around with his free arm. “Where the hell are you at?”

Nott became visible again, standing by the cat’s paw. She lifted a small dagger and stuck it in the guy’s leg. He came awake with a scream.

“He’s alive,” she said, stepping out of reach as he kicked and swore frantically.

“You don’t say.” Fjord righted Caleb’s arm a bit. “C’mon, let’s talk to our new friend.”

* * *

It was a half-elven man, freckled with reddish hair and very angry eyes. The latter might’ve been because Nott kept poking him with her dagger. Or maybe because Beau was checking his dead friends for valuables on the floor.

“You’re all going to die for this,” he hissed. “Avantika will cut your eyes out and feed you to her god.”

“Now that is quite the threat,” Fjord said.

“I’m practically trembling,” agreed Beau, picking up the fallen laser sword and studying it. “Hey Yasha, check this out.” 

She tossed the deactivated weapon to Yasha, who caught it easily and turned it on with the push of a button.

It wasn’t all tech; there was an actual blade, about the length of Caleb’s lower arm and dangerous all on its own, but with the laser activated it became nearly six feet long and hummed with energy. Yasha turned it over, reading something off the handle.

“The Magician’s Judge,” she said, glancing at the trapped man. He glared back, but there was definite trepidation in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’re a mage?” she asked.

He spat at her. It missed.

“Pity.” She twirled the blade, a blur of blue light, and stopped it less than an inch from the man’s throat. He took a gasping breath. “It would’ve been very fitting.”

“Now Yasha, let’s not overreact,” said Fjord. “I’m sure our friend here’ll be very cooperative. Right, friend?”

The raider sneered at him. “She’ll save you for last,” he said. “Came ‘ere looking for you, she did. Gonna flay you alive when she finds you.”

“Charming,” said Fjord. “Yasha, cut his hand off, will you?”

Yasha raised the sword, not a hint of hesitation on her face, and the man broke.

“Wait, wait! I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Wuss,” Beau snorted from the floor as she turned pockets inside out. Caleb regretted not being able to join her, but he couldn’t see Nott anywhere and so assumed she was busy taking the good stuff before Beau could get to it.

“Why’re you here?” asked Fjord.

“’cause Avantika wanted you. Said you were on the wrong path or some shit like that.”

“Avantika?” Fjord frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Who do you think? She’s our captain.”

“Wait.” Beau stood suddenly. “Is she a redhead? Elf, kind of dark? Really sexy voice?”

“That’d be her.”

“She was at Halfway station.” Beau grabbed Fjord’s free arm, practically shaking him. “She was staring at us all creepily in the cafeteria.”

“What?” Fjord just stood there, looking kind of dazed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not knowing _your creepy ex_ wanted to fucking _kidnap_ you. I thought she was just some weirdo.”

“She’s not my ex,” said Fjord defensively. “I haven’t even heard her name before.”

“Then how did she…” Beau stopped. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and Caleb could practically see the pieces fitting together in her head. Then she grabbed Fjord again, and this time she really did shake him.

“Please don’t do that,” said Caleb weakly, just sort flopping around at the half-orc’s side. Beau was strong for her size.

“There was another guy, a half-elf. I think he pointed you out to her.”

Fjord went very still for a moment before his gaze drifted back to the raider.

“Say, does the name Sabian mean anything to you?”

“So what if it does?”

Fjord swore.

“This is all very interesting,” Thain broke in, “but unless I’m mistaken, this ship is still very much under attack.”

“Yes, of course.” Fjord cleared his throat. “Useful information, yes, that’s what we need. Uh…” He wrinkled his forehead. “How many of you are there? What’re your weapons like?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s not very useful,” said Caleb mildly. He was getting tired of this; his leg was aching, there was blood in his boot, and he didn’t know where his cat was. He lifted the hand that wasn’t on Fjord’s shoulder, lit a small flame in it. 

“You said this Avantika was going to cut our eyes out? How about I burn yours out first and send you back to her, as a message.” He let the fire grow a little.

“Fuck you,” spat the man.

Caleb nodded. “Alright then,” he said.

The fire moved from the palm of his hand to the tip of his index finger, like a tiny blowtorch, where it compressed into a small, white flame.

“Try not to move,” he said, “or I might burn your nose off, too.”

* * *

“What the fuck,” said Beau as she dragged him towards the med bay a few minutes later. “I didn’t know you were so hardcore.”

“Caleb’s very dangerous,” said Nott where she walked next to them, visible again but with the crossbow still ready. She’d softened a bit towards Beau since she agreed to help get him to the medic.

“That thing you did, what did you call it, a Haste spell? _The fucking best_.”

“If it keeps me out of the fray,” said Caleb. “I’m not very durable, as you may have noticed.”

“We can’t all be like Yasha,” Beau agreed. Her eyes glinted a little. “Did you see her? She barely took any damage at all, just plowed right through it.”

Yasha and Fjord had ended up dragging their one living prisoner to the brig once Caleb was done getting information out of him, while the rest of the group was sent off to medical. Thain had disappeared almost immediately – presumably he was headed to engineering – but Beau and Nott stuck around.

Caleb hadn’t actually needed to do any torture, had singed a couple eyelashes at most. He didn’t know whether he was disappointed he didn’t get to do it, didn’t get to scare these people off by showing what he was really like, or if he was relieved that didn’t yet know. It’d been nice, in a way, to be seen as just some harmless scientist. Then again, none of them had seemed all that opposed to cutting off limbs as a form of encouragement.

Nott came to a sudden stop. “Someone’s in front of us,” she said.

Beau stopped too, but she didn’t seem worried. Instead, she grinned.

“Hey Caleb, Caleb, could you do the Haste thing again? Come on, do it again.”

“Quiet,” hissed Nott. “Just stay here, I’ll check.”

She flipped up her hood and slipped around a corner, staying visible this time. Probably she’d exhausted her magic; she didn’t use it much, and tired quickly when she did. Luckily she was still better at sneaking around than most people Caleb had met.

“We’re just going to let her go?” Beau said. “Won’t she get, like, shot?”

“Nott’s very good at not being seen,” said Caleb. “At least when she’s sober.”

“Wasn’t she an alchemist or something?”

“She is. Nott has many talents.”

“Thieving’s one of them, I heard. I mean, I’m not judging,” said Beau. “Everyone’s stolen something, some people are just better at it.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Just then, almost as if to prove him right about her many talents, a familiar voice spoke up inside Caleb’s head.

“It’s just the crew, there’s a bunch of them in the med bay,” Nott said. “You can reply to this message.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. The Message spell was the first one she learned, not long after they first met. It was something she could always pull off, no matter how drained, and he still always felt a pang of pride whenever she did. She’d gotten a lot better since he first taught it to her, refining and even designing spells on her own, but there’d always be something special to that Message spell.

“ _Ja_ , we’re coming,” he replied. Beau gave him an odd look, and he just pointed the way Nott had left. “She says it’s safe.”

“You two are so fucking weird,” Beau muttered, but helped him the last bit to the med bay without protesting. 

* * *

There were already at least ten people in the med bay, most of them screaming and several bleeding. The one cot was taken by a woman who seemed to be missing a chunk of her thigh.

“Maybe just put me on the floor,” Caleb suggested.

“Beau!” The medic – Jester – bounded across the room, almost bowling some of her patients over. “Oh my gosh, I heard what happened, I’m so jealous!” She made a face. “I want to fight too, but they won’t let me leave the med bay.”

“Speaking of medical duties.” Caleb untangled himself from Beau and limped to a nearby wall, where he slid down to the floor. He stretched out his injured leg.

“Yes?” said Jester, looking mildly annoyed at having been interrupted.

“Could you help?”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I don’t have any more healing spells prepared. Duceus can help.”

“‘Duceus?’” Caleb blinked. “The chef?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of weird when he does it, though. It makes moss grow everywhere.”

Caleb just blinked in reply, so it ended up being Nott who had to drag the firbolg over while Jester wandered around the room applying bandages and handing out healing potions to the worst injured.

“I didn’t know you could heal,” Caleb said when Caduceus came and knelt by him. Even then he still towered over his patient. 

With him came Mollymauk, the tiefling he worked the kitchen with. He stood and peered curiously down at Caleb in a manner that made it seem he saw much more than just the surface. It made Caleb’s skin crawl.

“Well, I was really only hired to cook, but I guess I’m okay at this, too.” Caduceus poked Caleb’s leg. Caleb didn’t get why people kept doing that; it wasn’t like it revealed any new information about his ugly, bleeding flesh wound. He ground his teeth and almost managed not to groan.

“Ah, yes,” said Caduceus, “you’ve been shot.”

Nott hovered nervously around them. “Can you fix it? Will he be able to walk again?”

“We might have to cut it off,” said Mollymauk mildly.

“Just hold on for a bit, that’s alright.” Caduceus poked Caleb’s leg again, but this time the finger glowed softly pink and instead of hurting it just felt kind of tingly and warm. The skin didn’t pull together like Caleb had expected; instead something that looked like moss and mushrooms seemed to grow out of it until it covered the wound. The moment it did it started to wither and fall away, revealing fresh new skin. Caleb blinked at it.

“What about the bullet?”

“It went straight through.” Caduceus frowned. “At least I think it did.”

“ _What_?” squeaked Nott.

“Ah, I’m sure it’ll come out one way or another.” Mollymauk sat down against the wall next to Caleb, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

“You don’t know that!”

“Now, now, there’s no reason to shout,” said Caduceus, despite being in a room where he might be the only one using his inside voice. “I’ll take another look once things have calmed down, and I assure you mister Caleb is stable for the time being. There’s no internal bleeding, and…” He poked Caleb’s leg again, looking pleased when Caleb didn’t flinch. “…no pain.”

“But…”

“I’ll be fine, Nott,” Caleb reassured her. “Why don’t you help Caduceus out for a bit, make sure people stay calm?”

Caduceus looked dubious, but Nott nodded and stood straighter, like a soldier accepting orders. Caleb was a little worried she might stab someone if they tried causing a scene, but decided that was for someone else to deal with. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“She’s certainly very intense.”

This time he did flinch. He opened his eyes and looked at Mollymauk, still sitting next to him, one leg outstretched and the other pulled up so he could rest his arm on the knee.

“ _Ja_ ,” said Caleb weakly, not in the mindset to search for words. Caduceus was right; he wasn’t hurting, but he felt sore. Stiff. Tired like all the hells. The new-grown flesh felt almost foreign, needed time to really become part of him, something more than just grafted on skin. And the healing hadn’t exactly restored the lost blood.

“You’re a talkative one,” said Mollymauk once it became clear Caleb didn’t plan to say more.

“I just got shot,” said Caleb, a bit testily.

“Oh yes, I saw.” Mollymauk nudged Caleb’s leg with his toe. “Very gnarly. Probably going to scar.”

Caleb glanced at him, at the lavender skin visible at his open collar. It was riddled with scars, thin and raised as if from the blade of a knife. “You’d know all about that, I presume,” he said.

“These-” Mollymauk pulled at his collar, revealing more of his chest and the scars trailing down it “-are marks of pride. One for every kill.”

He didn’t let his collar go. Caleb felt himself go a little red and had to look away. “Sure.”

Mollymauk grinned, and even though he was relaxed and friendly there was still something slightly unnerving about it. The sharp teeth, the solid red of his eyes, the absolute disregard for personal space. Caleb had largely gotten used to inhuman features since he started traveling with Nott, but sometimes his childhood in an almost all human village came back to haunt him.

“Okay, you caught me,” Mollymauk admitted. “They’re actually magic. I’ve got these swords, you see, looks just like normal swords, but when you activate them with my bloodline…” The smile grew a little wider, a little wilder. “Bad things happen.”

Caleb wanted to say it was complete bullshit; it certainly sounded like it. But Molly said it with such conviction, like he believed completely in it, and the scars didn’t look like the kind you’d gain in battle. Didn’t look like torture, either, unless he’d been held completely still for it. Looked a little too much like things Caleb didn’t want to think about.

“Uh-huh,” he said, hoping that’d put an end to the conversation. No such luck.

“This the first fight you’ve been in?”

“I’ve been in my fair share of scrapes.”

“Mhm.” Molly tipped his head, making a small charm on his horn jingle. When he wasn’t forced into kitchen-wear he looked like he’d covered himself in glue and rolled through a pawnshop. “You look a bit shaken.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you seem less than thrilled to be talking to me.”

“I’ve been shot,” Caleb reminded him.

“Ah, you’re fine.” Mollymauk slapped his shoulder, making Caleb flinch. “C’mon, I’m just trying to make small talk. I could read your fortune, if you like. Might distract you from your bad attitude.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

Mollymauk gave a long, put-upon sigh and went to rise. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.”

There was a commotion outside the door before Mollymauk had gotten more than halfway up. Caleb expected more patients spill inside when it opened, but once it there was only a body, falling down face first on the floor.

“Get down!” Mollymauk shouted, hurling himself over Caleb so the two of them ended up sprawled on the floor. It saved them from the green beams that shot through the room, striking several of the patients and throwing them back.

When Caleb looked up, half covered by Mollymauk, a figure stepped into the room. An elven woman, tall and imposing with a rapier in one hand. Unlike the laser sword Beau had found there didn’t seem to be any tech to it; just plain steel, twisted in a strange design reminiscent of a tentacle. It itched in Caleb to cast detect magic; what little he knew of swords told him they rarely looked that intricate without having some enchantment to them. Besides, most people new better than to walk into potential gunfights armed only with steel.

“So this is where you’re all hiding,” she said, holding the rapier in a light but sure grip. More people followed behind her, men and women armed with regular guns and knives. The crew in the med bay drew back as one. “Now everyone stay calm,” the woman said – Avantika, it had to be Avantika. “I’m looking for someone. Your first mate, I believe.”

“You stay away from him!”

A colorful figure shot out from the back of the room. Jester, one arm outstretched, fangs bared in a snarl. She was sparkling. Literally; as Caleb watched the sparks gathered in front of her, coalescing into the shape of…

A giant, serrated lollipop.

It seemed to surprise the raiders as much as it did him. None of them reacted fast enough to stop it from flying through the air and smacking their captain straight into a wall.

“Ha!” Jester shouted. “Take _that_!”

Avantika pushed away from the wall, spitting blood. “Cute,” she said.

And then she disappeared.

The room exploded into activity. People screamed and cowered. Mollymauk leaped up from on top of Caleb, running head first into the group by the door. From further back Caduceus stepped forward, holding out his arm.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, and Avantika wasn’t visible again exactly, but you could see the outline of her, burning like bright pink fire. Caleb heard her make a frustrated snarling noise.

Someone small scurried across the floor, weaving between legs and feet until it had Avantika in its sight with no one in the way. A crossbow bolt shot for her, but Avantika spun and slapped it out of the air with her rapier.

“It really didn’t need to be this complicated,” she said, slapping away another bolt. It struck the wall and released a charge of acid. “But if you insist.”

She moved as if to strike, even though no one was close enough, but when she took a step the pink outline of her went out. 

And her full figure appeared over Nott, having used Dimension Door to cross the room. Nott gave a squeak and tried to back-pedal, but wasn’t fast enough. Avantika’s rapier fell across her back.

Caleb’s vision went white edged. He heaved himself up on his knees, held his hands out and let loose.

* * *

Despite everything, it was still always fire he reached for. Part of him hated admitting it, but the flames felt good in his hands, felt good when he saw them grow and consume and roar. Fire was power. 

And then he would smell the familiar scent of burning flesh, hear the unmistakable scream of someone feeling their skin blister and boil, and he would be brought back to that night, remembering what he did when he had power within his grasp.

He was pretty sure he hit her. He certainly hit someone; couldn’t imagine that scream, that smell. But his sight went fuzzy, his mind fizzed out. It could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been _them_.

“Caleb? Hey, Caleb!”

Someone was shaking him. He blinked; there were still white spots in his eyes where he’d stared at the flames for too long.

“Hey, you alright?”

A different voice this time. “Mollymauk?” Caleb mumbled, lips numb.

“Look at that, he’s alive.”

A hand patted his cheek. Caleb’s reflexes were too dulled to let him flinch or push it away, so he just blinked again. Figures started to take shape in front of him; one purple, one brown. Caleb opened and closed his mouth a couple times, piecing together words.

“Is Nott okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, just a bit banged up,” Beau said. “But man, what the fuck was that about?”

“Nothing.” Caleb’s hands found the floor and he shakily tried to push himself up.

“You completely zoned out!”

“And now he’s fine.” Hand’s caught his arms, helped him up. Caleb let them. “C’mon, let’s get you to your friend.”

The fight was over. More people were injured now than before; there was fresh blood on Mollymauk’s upper arms, and multiple crewmembers sat on the floor as the healers saw to them. Three of the raiders lay dead by the door. Avantika wasn’t one of them.

“Afraid she got away,” Mollymauk said, following his gaze. “Didn’t expect this kind of resistance on a research vessel, I bet.”

He was probably right, but Caleb didn’t feel up to discussing it. For once Mollymauk accepted his silence and simply helped him over to Nott before leaving them be.

She didn’t look as bad as he’d feared. A bit shook up, more fidgety than usual, flask held tightly in both hands. She had a green cape over her shoulders, small enough that it would only have reached Caleb’s elbows, but big enough on her to cover her entire upper body. Blood had leaked through in patches. Caleb sank to his knees next to her and pulled at it, looking for injuries.

“Caleb, Caleb I’m fine.” She pushed at his hands. “Jester fixed me up, she had a bunch of healing potions for emergencies.”

The back of her hooded jacket was split down the middle underneath the cape, but her skin was whole. Coated in dry, crusted blood, yes, but no visible wounds.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked.

“Probably traumatized, but yeah, I’m fine.” She gave a short, sharp toothed smile before taking a swig from her flask.

Caleb glanced at her back again – thin and bony and very, very green – before letting the cape fall. 

“Who gave you this?” he asked, voice lowered.

“Jester. She’s really nice, you know.”

Caleb looked up, found Jester splinting someone’s leg in the other end of the room. Apparently they were saving spells and potions for more serious injuries. She looked up, almost as if she’d felt his gaze, and he gave her a discreet nod. She grinned at him, not discreet at all, flashed a thumbs up, and went back to work.

The crowd slowly thinned out as people limped away. There was a crackle and an announcement from the intercom at one point, but Caleb didn’t listen. The raiders were gone and Nott was okay, and that was all that mattered. No one tried to shoo them out of the room and so they just stayed on the floor, Nott drinking from her flask and Caleb summoning Frumpkin to pet. It always helped, giving his hands something to do.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” he said after some time.

Nott glanced at him over her flask. “Why do you say that?”

“You almost died!”

She waved him off, as if she’d expected a more compelling argument. “We’re fine, those pirates got beat to hell and back. They’ll feel too humiliated to even look at us again. Besides, this trip was important to you.”

“I could’ve found other ways to study.”

Caleb wasn’t sure how true that was. Spell scrolls and tomes were ludicrously expensive, and even if he could walk into an academy and ask to be taught there wasn’t really anyone _to_ teach the things he wanted, _needed_ , to learn. They were too obscure, too unknown. What he needed to know he needed to find out on his own, and Ruidus was the most promising place start looking.

“Nothing would’ve been as good as this,” Nott protested. “You’ve got your own lab!”

“And a contract that says I’m obligated to report all my finds to the captain at the end of the trip.”

“Meh, what’s she going to do? It’s not like she even knows what you’re doing in there.”

That was true; Caleb had never as much as met the captain eye to eye. Apparently she’d vetted their applications, but it was Fjord who handled the introductions, the tours, all the practical leadership duties. Caleb didn’t even know her name.

“That’s not the only issue,” he said. “We’re too close to people here. Several have already found out about you.”

“Jester’s not going to tell anyone.”

“What about Beauregard and lord Thain?”

“Well.” Nott tipped her head from side to side. “I don’t think Beau will say anything either, not as long as she still cares about Jester’s opinion of her. And Dezran…” She went quiet. “I don’t know. I can’t really read him. But I think he’s too busy with himself to care.”

“You’re probably right. Still, we should be careful, maybe find a way to keep them on our side.”

“Jester’s already on our side.”

“Jester’s on everyone’s side.”

“That’s not true. There’s a couple of guys that she absolutely loathes. Apparently they said mean things about her god. I helped her sneak blue dye into their shampoo; we should see the result of that soon.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to him that in talking to the rest of the crew to keep their cover up, Nott might actually befriend some of them. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d bonded with Jester – it wasn’t often they came across someone who didn’t at least sneer at the mention of goblins, and Jester was extraordinarily friendly – but it still made something ache inside him. He forced the feeling away. “We already have Dezran too, I think,” he said. “I’m too useful to his research to risk.”

“That leaves Beau,” Nott pondered, tapping her flask. “We could just kill her.”

Caleb gave her a look.

“Okay, okay, no killing.” Nott grumbled something inaudible as she took another swig. “Just saying, it’d be easier.”

“Hi there, you two.”

They looked up as one. The only other person still in the room was Caduceus, and he looked about ready to leave.

“Captain wanted us to gather in the cafeteria for a meeting of some sort,” he said. “You guys okay to come with?”

“ _Ja_ , we’re fine.” Caleb got up and helped Nott to her feet. He gave her a once-over and adjusted the borrowed cape even if it wasn’t really needed. Nott retaliated by using Mage Hand to try and rub away a blood stain from his forehead.

“Good, good,” said Caduceus. “I just need to finish up one last thing, then we can walk together.”

He walked over to the still sprawled-out bodies by the door and knelt by them, placing a hand on the closest. The skin darkened and cracked, and then things started to grow out of it, first around Caduceus’s hand, then quickly spreading to the rest of the body. It’s reminiscent of the healing spell he’d used on Caleb earlier, but this growth didn’t wither. Instead it grew thicker, until it didn’t just look like the body had been dead for weeks, but like it’d been lying in some forest grove, exposed to the elements.

“Uh,” said Nott.

“I’ll come gather them up later,” Caduceus said, doing the same thing to the other two. “They’ll be good for the garden.”

“Don’t you grow our vegetables there?”

He gave her a confused sort of look. “Yes? Where else would I grow them?”

“I just…” Nott glanced at the people-shaped carpets of moss and mushrooms. “You know what, never mind.”

* * *

The cacophony from the cafeteria was audible from a ways off, and Caleb worried they’d walk into a riot. Instead, most people turned out to be rather subdued. The noise came from only one table, Fjord, Mollymauk, Beauregard, Yasha and Jester chattering happily around it. Jester immediately shot to her feet when they entered.

“Duceus, Nott, Caleb, over here!” she called, causing most of the cafeteria to look right at them. 

Caleb hunched his shoulders and glanced around. Lord Thain was sitting alone in a corner, pouring over a datapad and chewing the end of a stylus. He looked up at the commotion, and Caleb could’ve sworn he raised his eyebrows, a question or a challenge, before going back to his work. He was about to head over there when Nott caught his sleeve.

“Caleb,” she breathed, “they have _alcohol_.”

Caleb followed her gaze, noting nearly a half dozen bottles on the noisy group’s table. Nott had been making do with her flask since the trip started; she was probably sick of whiskey. Caleb gave in to the inevitable.

“Was thinking you guys had gone to sleep,” Beau said as they sat. Caleb could feel her gaze on him and stubbornly kept his eyes on the table.

“Caduceus was composting bodies,” said Nott.

“You know what?” said Beau, picking up her glass. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Where did all of this come from?” Caleb asked, accepting a cup when Mollymauk handed it to him.

“Personal stash,” the tiefling said, grinning. “I’ve got some more interesting stuff too, if you want to try.” He patted a pocket. “Found some people very open to trade back at Halfway.”

“You’ve got _drugs_?” Beau hissed.

“Only the best. Well,” he amended, “the best that I could afford.” He pulled small felt bag from his pocket and shook it. “Want one?”

Beau hesitated for a moment, then stuck her hand out. “Gimme.”

Fjord grabbed her wrist and pushed it back. “The captain is coming soon,” he said sternly. “Maybe _don’t_ get high?”

“You are no fun,” Mollymauk said, but put the bag back in his pocket.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Jester started digging through the pink haversack she always carried with her. “I haven’t had a chance to try this spell, never been enough people to share it with, but now…” 

She slammed a goblet down on the table. It looked to be made of gold, encrusted with gems in intricate patterns.

“Whoa,” said Beau. “That’s got to be worth a fortune, and you were just carrying it around in your bag?”

“Only a thousand gold or so,” Jester said, motioning at people to pick up their drinks.

Caleb’s jaw fell open. “A _thousand gold_?” he choked out. “Jester, how-”

He was interrupted when she finished whatever spell she was doing, because suddenly steaming dishes materialized all over the table. Mostly pastries, Caleb noted, but some food too; lots of the things he’d expect to find in a coastal city, most of it caramelized or glazed.

“This,” said Jester, beaming, “is a Heroes’ Feast.”

A moment of quiet. Beau reached out, picked up a pastry and took a bite.

“Jester,” she said, very slowly, “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Hey,” said Caduceus, but he didn’t sound very upset.

Caleb had to admit that it was, in fact, very good, if a bit rich. He grew up on simple home cooking and bland academy food, and having a meal consisting almost entirely of desert made his stomach churn a little. On the other side of the table Caduceus looked actively miserable as he eyed the food, presumably looking for vegetables. At least there’s tea for him; Jester didn’t seem to be one for alcohol, and the only available drinks in her feast were tea, milk, and hot chocolate. Mollymauk almost immediately figured out how to mix his liquor with the chocolate and made new drinks for everyone.

The mood rose, a post-battle high if not a drug induced one. Caleb felt himself going a bit loose inside. No one tried making him talk or asked uncomfortable questions, and Nott was happy and none of these people knew anything about him. They complemented him on his spell-work and teased him for his threadbare coat and easily included him in their jokes and stories, all without fear or loathing in their eyes.

“You know, I didn’t even want to be first mate,” Fjord said at one point, while Mollymauk told some ludicrous story about how he got his swords on Caleb’s other side. “I was a _mechanic_ on the _Tide’s Breath_. Apparently being the only survivor of a wreck that should’ve had _no_ survivors gets you promoted.”

“You’d rather be a mechanic?” Jester leaned forward, hands around her glass, eyes intently on him.

“I mean, maybe?” Fjord made a wavy sort of gesture, almost spilling his chocolate mixed drink. “It was simpler. Less responsibility. But people actually _listen_ to me now.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “I guess I still want that, but without the role, you know?”

“I think you’re doing fine,” said Caleb.

“Yeah?” Fjord visibly perked up.

“You got us out of tonight’s scrape alive, _ja_?”

“Yeah, you should be captain,” Jester agreed.

“Ah, don’t say that,” Fjord said. “Lady DeRogna might be a bit absent, but she’s very-”

All the hard-won comfort ran out of Caleb like water from an over turned glass. “What did you say?” he interrupted.

“What?” said Fjord.

“The _captain_ , what’s her name?” There was a note of panic in Caleb’s voice and he couldn’t keep it down. Fjord frowned at him.

“Lady DeRogna?”

“Her full name, please, what’s her full name, _bitte_?”

“Lady Vess DeRogna?” said Fjord, making it sound like a question.

The feast in Caleb’s stomach turned cold and hard. He put his hands on the table and went to stand up. This was a mistake, he _knew_ it’d been a mistake, and here he was locked in a spaceship with an _assembly member_ and he-

A hush went over the room, and for a horrible, terrifying moment Caleb thought it was because of him, that they knew. Then her voice rang out over the tables.

“We have some things to discuss.”

He slowly sank back down, careful not to turn around. She might not recognize him; it’d been so long, over a decade, and they’d never had much to do with each other to begin with, he just had to stay calm, had to keep breathing-

“We lost five people tonight,” said Lady Vess DeRogna, Archmage of Antiquity and member of the Cerberus Assembly. “I’m sure this must’ve been very upsetting for all of you, but I want to make it very clear that we cannot let this impede our mission.”

Caleb kept his eyes downcast. He could hear the rustle of DeRogna’s robes behind him as she shifted.

“The inherent risks of a quest like this cannot be overstated,” she continued. “We may not be mercenaries or soldiers, but we all came out here knowing the dangers of open space, not to mention those of a magically unstable celestial body. I-”

She stopped talking in the sudden way of someone caught off guard. Caleb stopped breathing.

“ _You_ ,” she hissed.

Next to Caleb, Mollymauk said, “Me?”

DeRogna didn’t answer. Instead she whipped around until her eyes landed on Yasha. “Put him in the brig,” she bit out. “And make sure he’s bound.”

“No,” said Yasha, making DeRogna loose her footing for the second time in less than a minute.

“Excuse me?”

“Molly hasn’t done anything. I’m not putting him in the brig just because you say so.”

“You appear to be confused.” DeRogna’s voice had gone low and dangerous. “We are not equals on this ship. You are here as my employee, and must thus follow my orders.”

“I’m not putting Molly in the brig,” Yasha said simply, the unvoiced threat clear in her calm voice.

“This individual is a dangerous criminal, a murderer, and a thief, likely here to steal whatever discoveries we make.”

The air was starting to hum with gathering magic. Usually Caleb would’ve reached for his spells, too, as a precaution, but he still couldn’t move.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Mollymauk said. His usually light-hearted tone had gone tense. “I just have one of those faces. Maybe you met my cousin. She’s a real troublemaker, once-”

DeRogna lifted one hand, pointing right at him, and said, “Sleep.”

Mollymauk fell face first onto the table.

“There.” DeRogna dusted herself off. “I made it easy for you. Now take him away or I’ll have you join him.”

Yasha stood up, a slow, deliberate movement, her hand moving toward the sword on her belt, but Fjord placed a hand on her bicep.

“Perhaps it’s best to do as she says for now,” he said, voice low. “I’m sure this is all a mistake. We’ll clear it up later.”

“I’m not putting my friend in the brig.”

“Yasha, please. I’ll fix this.”

Something flickered across Yasha’s face, her gaze darting to Mollymauk and back up. Caleb could see her hesitate. “I-”

A familiar choking noise cut her off. Caleb looked up as if someone had tugged a string inside him and flicked his eyes across their table. Nott was gone.

He turned around just in time to see a previously invisible Nott flicker into visibility, one hand inches from DeRogna’s pocket, stiff as a board in a Hold Person spell.

It was the first time Caleb had seen the Archmage of Antiquity in over ten years. It didn’t surprise him that Nott had been unable to resist temptation; with the exception of Jester, who’d become too much of a friend for her to steal from, DeRogna was the first person on the ship wearing jewelry. Rings and necklaces adorned with heavy-looking stones, and deep green robes buttoned up with shiny silver buttons. It was like dropping a parched alcoholic into a barrel of fine wine.

DeRogna narrowed her eyes. “And what do we have here?” She reached out towards Nott, who made the choking sound again. “Another thief? A spy?”

Her fingers did a light motion, lifting Nott’s borrowed cape with telekinesis. The items on her belt and in her pockets lifted and fell to the floor one by one. Buttons, credit chits, a cheap-looking bracelet, lock-picks, dagger. 

The controller to her holomask.

DeRogna’s face twitched as she made the dark, palm-sized box float up to her hand. She turned it over, glanced down at Nott, and then dropped it and crushed it with the heel of her boot.

The mask disappeared as if it’d never been there, and Nott’s glowing yellow eyes appeared in a thin green face.

“Well,” said DeRogna, “would you look at that.”

* * *

Afterwards, Caleb went to the lab. He could’ve gone to their room – his room, now that Nott was locked in the brig with Mollymauk and the captured raider – but he couldn’t bear it. To quiet. At least in the lab he could delude himself into thinking he was there to work.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to set fire to the room and sit among the flames until they bit into his flesh. It had been an independent ship; he’d assumed the Assembly would’ve nothing to do with it, that the _Empire_ would have nothing to do with it, and so he hadn’t checked. So stupid. Such an unnecessary, completely avoidable fuck up.

They were going to kill her. Goblins didn’t have many rights at the best of times; they got chased away from settled areas, were often killed on sight on the assumption that they were killers or thieves or, if they weren’t yet, would be soon. They had to hide. They had to skulk. They had to learn to bite first, lest they be trampled down or left to starve. On the rare occasion that one was captured alive, suspected of a crime, a trial was rarely held.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He looked up. Lord Thain stood in the open door, looking a little like he regretted being there. Caleb was used to seeing him cold and a little detached; even in the battle he’d remained in control of himself. It was only situations like this, conversations of things other than science and magic, that flustered him. Caleb could relate.

“Are you alright?” Thain asked.

“As well as could be expected,” Caleb said. He’d been sitting in the lab for nearly four hours.

Thain came into the room and sat down next to him by the counter. “It’s unusual to see a human care like this for a goblin,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact rather than judgmental.

“ _Ja_ , well, Nott and I have been through a lot.” Caleb picked up a crystal from the counter and played listlessly with it. It was part of an experiment he was running, trying to put an enchantment on it that would, when activated, slow down time. It wasn’t going well. “We met in a prison cell.”

“Really, now.”

“ _Ja_. We broke out together.”

He probably shouldn’t be talking about this – the papers he’d submitted when applying to the position hadn’t mentioned anything about a prison stay – but he was tired, and he didn’t want to guard his words. Besides, Thain hadn’t cared about Nott being a goblin; he likely wouldn’t care about this, either.

“What were you in for?”

“Stealing. Fraud. They tried to get me for tax evasion.”

Thain snorted. “Quite the resume.”

Caleb rubbed his fingers over the crystal. “I have to get her out. If De-” He had to stop and take a breath. “If DeRogna gets her back to Exandria, she’ll be killed.”

“Don’t do anything hasty. We won’t be back for weeks; you’ll have time to figure something out.”

He might, or he might not. DeRogna could walk into the lab right this moment and recognize his face. He slammed the crystal down on the counter, making vials and instruments rattle. Thain jumped.

“This isn’t working,” Caleb said, making the hand motions and muttering the words for Dispel magic. He’d have to start over.

Thain recoiled. It would’ve been less noticeable if he hadn’t been sitting down; as it was, he almost tipped his stool over. Caleb stared at him as he tried to look unruffled and failed miserably. It was as if the spell had scared him.

“I should go to bed,” he said, turning around without waiting for an answer.

“Thain,” Caleb called after him.

Thain turned, and Caleb cast the spell again.

The change wasn’t the same as when Nott’s holomask deactivated. That was instantaneous; one moment halfling, the other goblin. This was more like a ripple, like Thain was just a reflection in a pond, and Caleb had just thrown a pebble through him. When the ripples settled someone else stood in his place.

He had white hair and dark, purplish skin, ears still pointed and elven. Caleb had never met a drow before. He didn’t know what he’d expected the spell to do, but it wasn’t this.

Thain reacted quicker than Caleb, who was still a little bit in shock. He reached out and Caleb’s muscles locked in place, trapped by the same spell that got Nott earlier the same night. Thain stood still for a moment, hand outstretched, and then let it fall with a sigh.

“That was unnecessary,” he said.

He walked closer – no, he didn’t walk at all. He floated over the floor, feet never touching it, and stopped right in front of Caleb. His eyes were an almost see-through silver, like the surface of the moon. He tilted his head, any previous nervousness gone.

“You were useful,” he said, “and surprisingly good company. I’m sorry I have to do this.”

Caleb’s heart felt like it was making up for the immobility of the rest of his body, beating its way out of his chest, trying to escape whatever Thain was going to do. He flashed back to the raider in the hallway, the one that got crushed in on herself, and a scream started to grow in his chest. It could not get out. He was choking on it.

Thain lifted a hand to Caleb’s face, as if to gently stroke his hair back. Caleb tried to shy away so violently that the muscles along his back felt like they were tearing.

“It’ll be quick,” said Thain, placing his hand on Caleb’s cheek, fingers against his temple.

And then the grating fell from an air vent and a person dropped from the ceiling.

If Caleb hadn’t been paralyzed, he probably would’ve screamed or tripped over his own feet or otherwise embarrassed himself. Thain just whipped around, already redirecting whatever spell he’d been preparing, but he still wasn’t fast enough. The person who’d fallen into the room darted forward, quick as a viper, and punched him right in the face, followed by an uppercut, followed by another punch. Thain stumbled back, trying to gain enough space to defend himself, but the person – _Beau, it was Beauregard_ – followed faster than he could flee, and it was obvious he was already dazed. She lifted her foot, snapping her hip around and hitting him square in the temple with a roundhouse kick.

Thain went down and Caleb was released from the Hold Person spell.

He collapsed backward, catching himself on the counter, the air leaving him in quick, shallow breaths.

“You were in the _ceiling_ ,” he accused, clawing at the counter.

“Well yeah,” said Beau. She eyed her blood spattered fists.

“What were you _doing_ up there?”

“What do you think?” She shook some of the blood off and pointed at him. “I was spying on your shifty ass.”

Caleb flinched. “Spying?”

“Do you have _any_ idea how fucking shady you are? I saw the way you reacted when you saw the captain. You’re hiding something and I want to know what.”

Caleb looked down at the unconscious drow on the floor. Beau made a face.

“Fine,” she said. “We can talk later, but we _are_ going to talk, so help me the gods.”

They both jumped when there came a crackling from the intercom.

“Everybody, listen up.”

It wasn’t DeRogna’s voice; it was Fjord’s. Caleb and Beau gave each other a look, foreheads creased.

“Get out of bed and gather in the cafeteria,” Fjord continued. “And try to stay in groups. There appears to have been a murder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me what level they're at, I already had to research which DnD spells each character has, don't make me figure out when they can and can't use them too.
> 
> ~~They're probably around level 10 or so.~~


	3. Good cop bad cop (there is no good cop)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau tries to solve a murder.
> 
> Content warning for this chapter: graphic depiction of a very dead body.

As it turned out, dragging an unconscious body across a spaceship was hard work.

“This is ridiculous,” Beau said as they yet again stopped to let Caleb catch his breath. She didn’t actually think she was that much stronger than him – her training had mainly focused on speed and agility, not strength – but she sure as all the hells had a lot more endurance.

“Just a second, _bitte_ ,” Caleb gasped, bent forward with his hands on his knees.

“Yeah, it’s been a second,” Beau said, hefting Dezran’s – if that was even his name – upper body. His head lolled forward as if on a corpse. Beau was slightly worried she’d given him brain damage. “Now pick up his feet and get walking.”

“You’re such an understanding, helpful individual,” Caleb muttered, grabbing Dezran’s ankles.

“You know what would be helpful? Telekinesis. Telekinesis would be helpful.”

“I told you, I’m out of higher level spells. I didn’t exactly get much sleep.”

He stammered and babbled less when he was annoyed, Beau noted. And the zemnian accent became more noticeable.

By the time they made their way to the cafeteria, Beau’s arms were aching and Caleb looked about ready to keel over and die on the spot. They stumbled through the open doors together and dumped the body on the threshold. The shouting assembly fell silent at the thud and stared at them, mouths agape.

“Surprise,” Beau said.

New shouting broke out. “Who’s that?” someone yelled, answered by a very intelligent “That’s a _crick_!” from someone else. Beau made a face and sat down by a table next to Caleb. She craned her neck until she spotted Fjord.

“Hey, first mate!” she called. “One of your wizards tried to murder your other wizard. Also, apparently he’s a drow.”

Fjord made his way to the front of the crowd and sank down next to Dezran. “This is lord Thain?” he said, sounding disbelieving. “The elven guy, with the…” He gestured at his head, indicating what Beau thought was probably pointy hair.

“That’s the one,” she confirmed. “So. Who got killed?”

Fjord looked exhausted as he stood back up. “The captain. I went to speak with her about last night’s… arrests. To see if I could talk some sense into her. Turns out I got there too late.” He glanced down at Dezran. “I wonder, though…”

“Well, we got the killer,” a woman wearing a mechanic’s coveralls said. “Let’s just get rid of him, throw him out an airlock or something.” She scowled at the unconscious body. “No mercy for monsters from the Dynasty. He must’ve been here to gather information on us, and the captain caught him.”

“Now let’s not be hasty,” Fjord said. “He needs to be interrogated, and…” That hesitation again. “I’m not sure he’s the one who did it.”

Outrage. Shock. A lot of yelling.

“What do you mean?” someone said. “He’s a crick! Who else could it be?”

“Why don’t you take a look at the body and tell me how he did it?” Fjord said, losing some of his cool. “Do you think he bit off and ate part of her arm using telekinesis? Did he take a chunk out of her torso – with clearly visible teeth marks, I may add – using disintegrate? Please, if you’re such an expert, tell me.”

The crewman who’d spoken looked shaken. “Ate part of…” he said faintly.

“Of her arm, yes. And her torso, though to be honest it might just have been hacked up and spread about the room in chunks. There were a lot of chunks.”

Some of the crew looked about ready to faint. Beau was glad her darker skin didn’t show the blood draining from her cheeks. So much for space being a peaceful place to die.

“Maybe he summoned a demon?” someone suggested weakly.

“Can wizards do that?”

“How should _I_ know?”

The shocked silence once again gave way to yelling as the crew argued and shouted back and forth. Fjord tried getting them to quiet down, which mainly meant he waved his arms about while adding to the yelling himself. Beau leaned her chin in her hand and wondered when she could go back to bed.

A great big boom echoed throughout the room. Beau jumped in surprise, while several of the crew yelped and cowered as if under fire.

“My apologies,” said a calm, loud voice, booming with the help of Thaumaturgy. “It was just getting awful noisy in here.”

Caduceus Clay was standing in the middle of the cafeteria with an empty circle around him; anyone near had scattered at the sound. In his hand he held a staff, presumably what he’d tapped on the floor to shut everyone up. It wasn’t like Beau’s, but rather like a walking stick, gnarled and uneven and covered with patches of pinkish moss, as if he’d found it on the ground and then waited for things to grow on it before using it.

“Yes, mister Clay?” said Fjord, sounding tired.

“I think I may have a solution to this problem,” said Caduceus. “Assuming our dear captain’s head is still somewhat intact.”

* * *

They ended up putting Dezran in the brig, wrapped up in chains with his hands bound behind his back with magic-dampening handcuffs. There was only the one cell, and it was starting to get cramped; the surviving raider was sitting in the corner, arms crossed over his chest and glaring, while Nott was pacing and Molly shuffled a deck of cards. They all looked up when Yasha opened the door and unceremoniously dumped the still unconscious Dezran on the floor.

“Oh wonderful,” said Molly drily, “company. Who’s this, and does he know how to play cards?”

Yasha brushed off her hands and pushed Dezran away using her boot. “You can come out,” she said. “DeRogna’s dead.”

A couple of cards fell from Molly’s hands. “Wait, what?” he said, scrambling to catch them.

Yasha was smiling, looking about to answer, when Fjord pushed his way in front of her, arms out wide.

“No, they can _not_ come out.”

Yasha’s smile dropped as she looked down at him. Fjord gulped.

There were only the three of them there, excluding the prisoners, mainly because Fjord wouldn’t have had a chance in the nine hells to drag the unconscious drow there himself. Beau had managed to tag along by grabbing one of Dezran’s arms and helping carry him. She was pretty sure Yasha knew exactly what she was doing, seeing as she’d picked him up and carried him herself after about ten steps, but she hadn’t said anything. Caduceus was waiting outside.

“What I mean is,” Fjord continued, “that we can’t let them out until we know it’s safe. I know Jester can do Zone of Truth, she…” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “She used it a lot when we first met. Just let her get a night’s rest and we’ll question them tomorrow, yeah? If they really aren’t a threat I’ll let them out then.”

Yasha visibly hesitated. She still hadn’t stepped back, and would’ve been standing chest-to-chest with Fjord if he wasn’t so much shorter.

“It’s alright, dear,” said Molly. “It really isn’t so bad in here, all things considered. I had to blind our pirate friend for a little bit to get him to shut up, but all’s been well since then.”

Beau could see Yasha work her jaw. The air felt staticky, as if electricity surged through it, making the hair on Beau’s head try to stand upright. She surreptitiously patted it down and yelped when she got shocked.

“Are you sure?” Yasha said slowly. “Because this doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Molly assured her.

“I’m not,” exclaimed Nott. “I’m going _nuts_ in here, if you don’t get me out I won’t be able to control myself, I might… I might claw out their tongues and eat them.”

“I can blind her too, if she gets too excited,” said Molly, and Nott snarled at him for ruining her threat.

“And maybe don’t talk about eating people right now,” Beau said. “It’s kind of a touchy subject.”

“I really am sorry,” Fjord said as he finally got Yasha out of the way and started closing the door. “I’ll let you out tomorrow if Nott hasn’t eaten all of you.”

“Hey!” called Molly, muffled through the metal door. “You never said who the newcomer is!”

“At least give me back my flask!” added Nott.

Fjord activated the lock with a sigh. “Let’s just do this,” he said. “Before the entire crew mutinies.”

Caduceus was sitting on the floor outside the brig when they exited, legs crossed and staff resting over his knees. He opened one eye.

“You done in there?”

“For now,” said Fjord.

“Wonderful, wonderful.” Caduceus pushed himself upright with one hand on the floor. “Let’s go have a talk with the captain, then.”

* * *

Part of Beau had thought Fjord was exaggerating when he described Vess’s body. Now, standing at the entrance to her private quarters, she saw he had in fact been downplaying it.

There was blood on the walls, the floor, spattered on the ceiling in drops and long trails. Chunks of flesh and hair and viscera was spread all over the place, punctuated here and there by bigger pieces, such as half an arm and part of a leg. The whole room reeked of blood.

“Fjord,” said Beau, “this isn’t a murder, it’s a fucking _slaughter_.”

“You don’t say.”

“No, you don’t get it. It can’t have been a person who did this, it just can’t. She’s torn to pieces!”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right.” Fjord nodded solemnly. “The only other explanation is a great big murderous beast roaming the halls without anyone noticing. I’ll tell people to keep an eye out.”

“I’m just saying, we need to consider our options here.” 

Beau leaned forward through the door, scanning the room for anything useful; foot or handprints, hair that wasn’t DeRogna’s, broken furniture or burn marks or other signs of a struggle or spell usage. As she stood there taking mental notes, Yasha and Caduceus walked right past her.

“Hey,” exclaimed Beau. “Don’t mess with the crime scene.”

“I thought it wasn’t a crime scene,” said Fjord, following them in. Beau threw up her arms and followed, careful to step around the blood stains.

“Something still killed her, though. We’ve got to figure out what it was.” Something occurred to her. “Hey Caduceus, you’re a cleric right?” She frowned. “With all the healing spells, I mean. You have to be a cleric.”

“Of the Wildmother, yes.” Caduceus had crouched down next to the body – or at least the largest piece of it – and carefully adjusted the head. Beau cringed but managed not to tell him not to touch it. She also managed not to mention that the Wildmother was, in fact, illegal. She was pretty sure Caduceus wasn’t from the Empire, and it was a stupid rule anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered.

“The Wildmother, huh?” said Fjord, looking interested. “Is that-”

He stopped talking when Caduceus grabbed the corpse’s head and twisted it to free the mouth from a half dried puddle of blood. In doing so he revealed a large gash in its neck, making it open up with a slurping noise and spilling half-coagulated blood on the floor.

“Oh dear,” he said, poking the neck and peering at the wound. “I hope it can still talk.”

“Excuse me, I just need to…” Fjord slapped a hand over his mouth, turned around and walked out of the room, stepping in something slimy on the way out and nearly falling over. Once outside, Beau could hear him swear and audibly try not to throw up.

She was feeling a bit nauseous herself, and did her best to breathe through her mouth, not her nose. It left a salty, metallic-tasting coating on her tongue. Yasha stood by a wall, arms crossed and looking unbothered.

“But if you’re a cleric,” said Beau, trying to distract herself, “can’t you just bring her back to life?” Her voice sounded choked and she had to swallow down bile. “I’ve heard clerics can do that.”

“Well, technically,” admitted Caduceus. “But I’d need a diamond, and also to get to her within a minute. Any longer than that and we’d need to hold a Resurrection ritual, and that is… trickier.”

“But not impossible?”

“No, no, definitely not. But we’d need people important to her, people willing and able to convince her to return.” He had a thoughtful expression. “I don’t think we have any of those on this ship. She didn’t seem like a very pleasant person, if I’m being entirely honest.”

There came a sticky sound of wet footsteps when Fjord returned, still a bit pale but no longer retching.

“So, Duceus,” he said, intently looking anywhere but at the body. “How come a cleric of the Wildmother is working as a chef?” 

“Yeah,” agreed Beau, “I’m sure you could find something better.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I feel providing good food is a very essential service.” Caduceus was bringing out sticks of incense and lighting them one by one, then placing them in a nearby unidentifiable chunky puddle to make them stay upright. Beau discreetly placed a hand over her mouth and swallowed again. Fjord made a choked noise. “And this option came with free travel,” continued Caduceus, not noticing their distress, “which works out great for me.”

Finished with his preparations, he sat back and made a couple of quick gestures while mumbling something that sounded like a prayer. Beau waited, never looking away from the corpse, but still somehow managed to nearly jump out of her skin when it sucked in a raspy, gurgling breath. 

“Shit,” she said, staring as the torn skin and muscles around the neck wound moved when air hissed through. “That is fucking _disgusting_.”

“We have five questions,” said Caduceus.

“Ask who killed her, then,” urged Fjord.

“Or what,” said Beau.

“Alright.” Caduceus frowned and leaned closer to the body. “Lady DeRogna, hello, hi.” The eyes swiveled in their sockets until they landed on him. “If you wouldn’t mind telling me, what did this to you?”

A wet breath, then, “A monster.”

Beau shivered at the sound of it, but that wasn’t enough to stop her from giving Fjord a smug look.

“What kind of monster?”

“Parasite. Impostor. _Alien_. Hiding among the crew.”

This time it was Fjord looking smug, though admittedly also a bit sick.

“I’ve heard stories about that,” he mumbled. “It’s the sort of thing spacers talk about in bars. Ships coming back empty, crewmembers being replaced. Urban legends, you know? I never really took any stock in it.”

“That still means it’s one of the crew, though,” said Beau. “Caduceus, ask her who it was.”

Caduceus nodded, doing just that.

“I… don’t know.” The corpse didn’t sound annoyed exactly, but there was a definite sense of frustration to its words. “It changed its form, became… incomprehensible. Teeth, tongue, _tendrils_. No… order, to its shape. Just… hunger.”

“Oh dear,” said Caduceus again. “That doesn’t sound very good.”

“That was three questions,” said Beau. “Ask her… ask her about the drow.”

“There was a drow on board,” said Caduceus. “Posing as your scientist, lord Dezran Thain. Is it possible he was sent to kill you?”

“No,” rasped and bubbled the corpse. “Essek Thelyss was… an asset.”

Beau waited for it to say more. Nothing. Caduceus glanced at them, but both she and Fjord gave helpless sort of shrugs so he turned back to the corpse.

“An asset… how?” he asked slowly.

“He gave us what we needed.” 

There came a long exhale, and then the corpse’s eyes glazed over.

“Well,” said Beau. “What the fuck are we supposed to do about that?”

* * *

What they did, it turned out, was go to sleep. All together in one room. Like on a fucking school camping trip. 

No one was very happy about it, but Fjord insisted they stick together to avoid further deaths. Most of the crew muttered and grumbled about that, still more or less convinced the drow – Essek Thelyss, Beau reminded herself – must be the killer, and that the overcrowded room was unnecessary.

“I’m not trusting some corpse,” someone muttered. “Besides, it was the _cook_ who cast the spell. What does he know?”

“Maybe he’s another spy,” someone else suggested. “Why else would a cook know magic? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe _he’s_ the killer, and faked the spell to cover for himself.”

Caduceus was a bit suspicious, that was true, but a spy? Beau barked out a laugh, making the two gossiping crew members jump and glare at her before moving further away. Right; most of them were suspicious of her, too. That’s what you got for being a stowaway.

They set up a watch schedule, and Caleb placed some kind of silver wire by the door that would warn them if someone came or went. There were a lot of distrustful glances thrown his way, too; probably being friends with not just a goblin but a drow didn’t win you any popularity contests, even if the latter had tried to kill you.

Beau slept restlessly that night, haunted by monsters edged by teeth, whispering her name with a familiar voice she couldn’t place.

* * *

“So you’ve done this spell before?” Beau asked, stretching first one arm and then the other over her head. She’d gotten up early for her workout routine, and had gotten plenty of disapproving looks for being so energetic so early in the morning. Even Jester seemed unhappy with her; she usually didn’t get up until sometime around noon, ship time.

“Yeah, a bunch,” she said over a steaming cup of tea and a donut. They were seated in the cafeteria for breakfast and to let Jester prepare her spells for the day. A few other people were gathered there, too, conversing quietly while glancing suspiciously in Beau and Jester’s direction. Jester stuffed the last of her donut into her mouth. “Should I prepare Cure Wounds?” she asked, muffled around the pastry.

“I mean, probably,” said Beau. “There _is_ a murderer lose.”

“True.” Jester licked her fingers; Beau tried not to stare. “I’ll prepare it, then. Prayer of Healing too, just to be sure. Oh, and Duplicity.” She grinned, lips shiny with glaze. “I love Duplicity.”

It became quiet around the table. Jester gathered crumbs while Beau internally lamented the lack of bacon.

“Do you think he did it?” asked Jester, voice lowered.

“Dez- I mean, Essek?” Beau slowly spun her teacup between her hands, seeping up the heat. “It seems the most likely, but… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like it. He’s too controlled. I can’t imagine him doing _that_.” She gave an involuntary shiver.

“It can’t have been that bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“He seemed so nice, though. I liked him. And I wanted to see how long it’d take him to find all the dicks I drew on his notes. Caleb always finds his right away.”

It occurred to Beau suddenly that Jester wasn’t just tired – she was sad. Sad that one of her new friends turned out to not actually be a friend. She didn’t show it much – even now her voice was light and she was still talking about dicks and pranks – but it was obvious if you knew to look and listen for it. Beau cleared her throat.

“As I said, it might not have been him. Maybe he really is just a spy, not some monster here to eat all of us.”

“Yeah.” Jester perked up. “And he really _fell_ for all of us, and didn’t _actually_ want to hurt Caleb, but _oh he has to follow his orders_ , but he loves all of us _so much_ , what was he going to _do_?”

“I mean, probably not,” said Beau. “I’m pretty sure he really was going to kill Caleb.”

“You don’t know that, though. Maybe he was just going to mess with his memories, make him forget. Wizards can do that, you know. I can too.” She lit up suddenly. “Maybe I can make him forget he’s a spy! Then he can _really_ be our friend.”

“That seems…” _Unethical_. “…unnecessarily complicated. Besides, if he really was the one who killed DeRogna we can’t just let him wander around thinking he’s our buddy. Justice, and all that.” Beau waved a hand. Jester deflated.

“I didn’t like her,” she said, almost sulkily. “She was mean. Honestly, I don’t really care that he maybe killed her, I just don’t like that he went after Caleb.”

There was a lot to unpack there, which Beau was thankfully spared from when Fjord strode into the cafeteria, looking immaculate in his uniform. Opposite her, Jester eyed him up and down and up again, grinning and waggling her eyebrows.

“I expected a new uniform,” she said. “ _Captain_ Fjord.”

“ _Acting_ captain,” he corrected, not responding to her climbing eyebrows. “You ready?”

“One second.” Jester raised her teacup, drained it. Slammed it down on the table. “Done. Beau, you coming?”

“I don’t know if-” started Fjord, but Jester waved him off.

“Beau’s really smart,” she insisted. “We need her.”

“But-”

“We _need_ her, Fjord.” Jester leaned forward. “Did you know she can punch people into telling the truth?”

“I’m pretty sure Yasha could do that too. Besides, we have your spell, right?”

“My spell and Beau’s _impeccable_ questioning technique.”

Fjord sighed. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

Essek was awake by the time they got the door to the brig open, and evidently very frazzled. His hair was mussed and the robe crocked under the chains. He stared straight ahead in a very deliberate sort of way.

“Good morning,” said Fjord, loud enough to make him flinch. “I hope everyone slept well.”

“I hate you,” muttered Nott, curled up under a blanket on the floor. She reluctantly sat up. “Did you bring my flask? Please tell me you brought my flask.” Instead of the expected threats, she actually looked a bit desperate.

“No,” said Fjord.

“I’m going to rip off your ears.”

 _There_ were the threats.

“This is going to be so much fun, you guys.” Jester sat down on the floor, legs folded under her dress. “So it’s basically like truth or dare but without the dare, and also you literally cannot lie.”

“Sounds fun,” said Molly, which was likely to be his last obvious lie in a while. “When do we start?”

Jester snapped her fingers, straightening. “Oh Traveler, please make these people spill their guts, _especially_ all the embarrassing stuff, amen.” She grinned and then immediately turned to Essek. “What color underwear are you wearing?”

He stared at her, lips parting slightly. “Excuse me?” 

His voice was the same as before. For some reason, Beau had expected it to be different.

“Or are they, like, patterned? With flowers, maybe. Or tiny hearts. Are you even _wearing_ underwear?” Jester stared intently at him. He stared back, seemingly too flabbergasted to regain his blank expression.

“That’s not really what we’re here to talk about,” said Fjord mildly.

“No, no, let the man speak,” said Molly, grinning. “I want to know.”

Essek’s eyes flicked his way, and then he slipped back into expressionlessness.

“Ah, that’s no fun.” Molly leaned forward, chin propped in his palm. “How about I make things a little easier, yeah?” His voice became lower, smooth and resonant in a way that made the hairs on Beau’s arms stand up. “How about you answer their questions, friend? Just tell them what they want to know and they’ll leave you alone.”

Essek’s pale eyes glazed over, face going slack as the Charm spell set in. “It would be bad for me if they knew,” he said, glancing from the others to Molly as if confiding in a friend.

“Oh, but they’re my friends,” Molly assured. “And right now, _you_ are my friend, and friends tell each other things, don’t they?” He smiled his stupid con-man smile.

Essek hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Molly waved at them. “Please, ask your questions.”

“Your name is Essek Thelyss?” said Fjord.

Essek glanced at him. Back to Molly, who made an urging gesture. A sigh. “It is,” he admitted reluctantly.

“And why are you here, Essek Thelyss?”

Essek chewed his lip. “Information gathering.”

“For the Dynasty?”

A small, private smile. “No. It was an… exchange. I gave the dwendalians something they wanted, I got something I wanted.”

“And what did you want?”

“A chance to do my research.”

Beau and Fjord shared a look. For all that Beau’d tried to ignore all that the Cobalt Soul had tried to teach her about history and politics and diplomacy, some things had unavoidably slipped through. She knew the Dynasty and the Empire did not collaborate. She knew the relations between them were tenuous at best, and flat out explosive at worst. She knew things had gotten worse, lately, with the Dynasty claiming the Empire had something of theirs.

“And your… you’ve got a queen, right? In the Dynasty?” She frowned, trying to remember. “Does she know you’re here?”

“She does.” Essek glanced up at her, a considering look on his face. As if he was evaluating her threat level. Beau couldn’t help grinning.

“Does she know everything? Like how DeRogna was perfectly aware of you being here?”

He glowered at her, which was answer enough. Jester did an exaggerated sort of gasp.

“ _Essek_ , are you playing both sides?” She looked delighted when he only glowered at her, too. “Oh that is _bad_.”

“So,” said Fjord slowly. “I’m assuming you didn’t kill our captain?”

Essek blinked. “DeRogna is dead?”

“She is, yes. _Did_ you kill her?”

“I did not.” Essek frowned. “Is this why I’m still alive? Because you need me to find out who it was?”

Beau recognized someone looking for leverage when she saw it. She also recognized how quiet Molly’d gotten the second he got Essek talking.

“Hey Molly,” she said, making him grimace. “How come the captain knew you?”

“I have literally no idea,” he said, sounding not annoyed but rather… aggravated. Like the universe itself had made the decision to make his life difficult. “I’d never seen her face before she started pointing fingers at me. I’m sure she just mixed me up with-”

He stopped talking with a choking noise. Jester wagged her finger at him.

“Ah, ah, I told you; no lying.”

“She must’ve known the person who used to have this body,” Molly muttered, rubbing his throat and glowering at the wall.

“The person who used to have your body,” Beau echoed. Everyone was staring; even Essek looked interested. Something occurred to Beau and she took a few quick steps back. “Shit, are you... are you the impostor? The, the alien parasite thing that got DeRogna?”

Molly blinked. “What.”

_“Answer the fucking question, Tealeaf.”_

“No, I’m not a fucking alien, _gods_.” He tapped his chest. “I’m a _tiefling_. I know we’re not very common, but _come on_.”

“I’m a tiefling, too,” said Jester with a solemn nod. “Clearly we’re awesome.”

“Clearly. Also, how would I have killed anyone when I was locked in here?” Molly gestured at Nott, Essek and the quiet, sulking raider in the corner. “Ask my delightful cellmates if they saw me take a trip out the keyhole in the middle of the night.”

“Fair enough,” admitted Beau. “But seriously, you can’t drop something like that and then not tell us what it means.”

She could see Molly chew the inside of his cheek. The solid red of his eyes made it hard to ascertain where he was looking, but it definitely wasn’t at her.

“I don’t remember further back than two years. And I have no interest in finding out who I was before that.” He said the last part quickly, as if to cut off any protests before they had the time to voice them. “All I care about is that this is my body and my life, and that I’m free to do whatever I want with both. Whatever business DeRogna had with the previous owner, I don’t care. And no, I didn’t kill her.”

“Alright.” Fjord nodded. “I still have a few more questions, if you don’t mind. Just to make sure you really aren’t a threat to this ship or its crew.”

Molly grimaced but made a go-ahead gesture.

“Why take a job here?”

A shrug. “The circus wasn’t working out, and then Yasha got an offer here, and we were used to traveling a lot anyway. They didn’t really want me, but she wouldn’t take the job otherwise, so they put me in the kitchens. End of story.”

“And there were no ulterior motives?”

“No. Well, I do want to have fun, if that counts as a motive.” Molly smiled, but it was brittle. Fjord just nodded.

“That’s enough, I think. Nott.”

Nott jumped. “Yes?”

“Why are _you_ here?”

She fidgeted with her blanket. “Is that really so important?”

Beau narrowed her eyes at her. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“It’s not to steal, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No, that seemed to be more of a bonus,” said Fjord drily, making Nott bare her teeth at him. Then she looked away.

“It’s a bad habit,” she muttered. “Kept getting us in trouble. I thought maybe it’d be easier not to do it, up here, so that Caleb’d finally have time to do his research without having to run all the time. Guess I overestimated my self-restraint.”

“And what exactly is Caleb’s research?” asked Fjord. Beau kept her eyes on the prisoners and noted that, again, Essek looked exceptionally interested. Molly mostly seemed bored.

“I don’t know, I’m not a wizard,” said Nott testily. “Magic, I guess. Reality bending stuff.”

Fjord frowned. “Isn’t all magic about bending reality?”

“You’d have to ask Caleb. He knows everyth- _a lot_ about magic.”

Fjord’s turn to look weirdly interested. Beau wondered what she’d done to deserve getting stuck with so many deeply suspicious people.

“And you’re just here because he is?” she asked Nott, who intensified her fidgeting.

“I want the best for him,” she said. “He has the potential to become very powerful, and I want to help him get there.”

“So it isn’t, like, some ploy to undermined the Empire? Steal intel out from under it and keep it to yourselves? Just to be clear,” Beau added, “I don’t actually give a shit if that’s what it is. I just want to know if I should worry about any of you eating my face in the middle of the night.”

“I don’t eat faces,” Nott muttered, which was actually kind of reassuring, seeing as she was a goblin. “And neither me nor Caleb care about the Empire. We just want to do our own thing in peace. That’s why we took jobs on an _independent_ ship. We didn’t want any trouble.”

“Mhm.” Beau nodded. “Hey Nott, are you an alien?”

“Wha-” Nott spluttered. “No!”

“Just making sure. And you didn’t kill DeRogna?”

“ _No_!”

“Anyone else in here secretly a shapeshifting alien monster? How about you?” Beau turned to the raider, who’d been sitting quietly the entire conversation. He glared at her.

“No.”

“And you, Essek?” She pronounced his name carefully, like weighing a throwing star in her hand. Like it was a weapon for her to use.

“I am not,” he said. “But I would like to know more about this… _creature_ you’re speaking of.”

“Sucks to be you, then.” Beau turned to Fjord. “I think we should let them out. Nott and Molly, I mean.”

“I agree,” said Jester. “It doesn’t seem very nice to have them locked up in here just because Vess didn’t like them. I mean, she’s dead. It’s not like she’s going to complain.”

“True,” admitted Fjord. “Though the ship is roomier with them in here.” They both glowered at him and he grinned in response. “Kidding, kidding. Though clearly it’s true.”

“Hey Fjord,” purred Jester. “What color underwear are _you_ wearing?”

Fjord gave a cough and very deliberately didn’t look at her. “Okay you two, up and out.” He waved a hand and Nott immediately slunk past him. Molly stood slower, stretching languidly.

“Much obliged,” he said, strolling out the door. Then he stopped and turned back around. “Oh, and Essek?” He snapped his fingers. Essek blinked a couple times, and then his eyes slowly widened.

“You…” he started.

“Please remember me fondly,” said Molly, winking. With that, he turned and left.

“He charmed me.” Essek didn’t even sound angry. Beau guessed he wasn’t used to being outsmarted; being outsmarted by _Molly_ must be especially excruciating.

“He _is_ very charming,” said Jester. “Hey Essek, were you really going to kill Caleb? Or were you just going to kiss him on the mouth and make him fall hopelessly in love with you so you could run away together?” 

He stared at her. Looked at Fjord. At Beau. Deflated into his wrinkled robe until it looked like it was about to swallow him. Jester made a consolatory noise.

“You guys, I think he’s embarrassed. There, there, murderous drow spy, we don’t judge.”

“I do,” muttered Beau as Jester reached out to pat his white hair. He tried to flinch away and nearly fell over when the chains stopped him from catching himself, but Jester caught him and easily dragged him back upright. This time he mutely endured it when she patted his head.

“Now we can’t let you out or you might kill us,” she said, standing up. “But I could bring you some pastries. I’d probably have to feed them to you though, because of the chains.”

“I’d like some food,” said the raider hopefully.

“Yes, but I don’t like you,” said Jester.

“He tried to kill one of you!”

“And you tried to kill lots of us.” She straightened her dress. “Are we done? It smells bad in here.”

* * *

It took about half an hour after Fjord’s latest announcement – _good news: the drow hiding among us didn’t kill our captain; bad news: something else did and it’s still here_ – to walk in on a fight.

She was using the hallways of the ship as a running track to try and sweat out her anxious energy, and there were shouts coming from the crew’s sleeping quarters. Opposite her, arriving from the other end of the corridor, was Yasha, moving with long strides for the door and the noise behind it. Beau sped up to make sure they got there at the same time. The door slid open and revealed no less than seven crewmembers ganged up around and shouting at a somewhat frazzled-looking Molly.

“Bet you love your job so much right now,” said Beau drily. Yasha ignored her and plowed straight into the mob.

“Alright, that’s enough, move aside.” Someone squeaked when she put her hand on the back of their neck and shoved them back. In his corner, Molly looked very relieved and hid it poorly behind a grin.

“Yasha, dear,” he said. “Maybe you could convince these lovely people to back the _fuck off_.” He lowered his voice for the last couple of words, snarling it in a way that made them hard to catch. A few of the crew actually stepped back; the rest just looked angrier.

“We don’t want him here,” said the one Yasha had grabbed. “I don’t care what the first mate says, I don’t trust him and he should be locked up.”

“ _Captain_ Fjord has deemed him innocent,” said Yasha, covering Molly with her considerably larger bulk. “I suggest you listen to him.”

“Why should we do that? He’s undoing DeRogna’s orders! He’s involved with _pirates_!”

“Yeah,” agreed another. “If anything, _he’s_ likely to be the killer.”

“Or it’s you,” chimed in a third. “We all saw you refuse her orders, and you’re _protecting_ this one, even if he’s obviously guilty.”

“Oh please.” Molly peeked out from behind Yasha. “I’ve already slept with like three people since getting on this ship. If I was murdering people in their beds, you’d know.”

One of the seven turned very red. Beau couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or the belated realization that they might’ve been very close to death.

“I…” Yasha’s eyes darted around the room. No one was making a move, and she clearly didn’t know how to handle verbal attacks.

Beau took out her staff and extended it with a snap of her wrist; one of its ends smacked the one who’d accused Fjord in the back.

“Oops,” she said flatly. “Guess it’s way too crowded in here.” She gave her staff a little twirl, forcing the closest ones to step away. “You should leave.”

“Are you this fucking stupid?” One of them pointed at Yasha. “She’s from gods damned _Xhorhas_ , and you think she isn’t involved with that crick?”

“She could be from the Nine Hells for all I care. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with the captain.”

“Like his opinion’s worth anything; he’s the one who let them out! And he won’t even turn the ship around.”

“Yeah, because one of the crew is an alien,” said Beau. “You wanna bring that back to Exandria? Wanna have an alien invasion on your conscience, huh?”

It had been surprisingly easy to convince the crew of what DeRogna – or, more accurately, DeRogna’s corpse – had said. Apparently Fjord wasn’t the only one who’d heard stories. The hard part was keeping them from doing the creature’s job for it by murdering each other.

“They’ll figure out who it is,” said the crewmember, but she looked hesitant. 

“You sure? Maybe they’ll just put us in quarantine for life.”

“Or kill us on the spot,” piped up Molly.

“You know who’d say that?” snarled the woman. “Someone who’s _guilty_.”

Beau groaned. “Are you still going on about that? Molly was _locked in a cell_ when it happened, even you people should be smart enough to realize he didn’t do it. Besides, there’s no point in throwing guilt around. Jester can hold another Zone of Truth tomorrow after she’s slept, and then we can simply _ask_ who it was.”

It sounded easy when she put it like that, but if she was being entirely honest (and when was she ever), Beau didn’t really trust the plan Fjord had laid out. From what she knew of magic, it could affect different creatures differently. Who’s to say if it’d even work on an alien. 

But showing any kind of hesitation now, with everyone pointing fingers, would be a bad idea. She jerked her head at the door. “Yasha, Molly, let’s go.”

For a moment it seemed the group wasn’t going to let them leave. Then Yasha did – _something_. Beau didn’t think it was a spell; it was more like she grew a little bit, filled up the room more. Her eyes went pitch black and the white tips of her hair darkened. Behind her, Beau swore she could see the spectral image of two skeletal wings unfold. When she spoke it wasn’t with a roar or a rumble or a rasp, but with a steady, chilly detachment. “Out of our way.”

The group parted as easily as if she’d cleaved through them with her sword.

“Thank you,” Yasha said, eyes still solid black. “Molly?”

Beau had to make herself follow them out. There was a taste of metal on the back of her tongue and that feeling of static again, along with a bone chilling cold, and part of her worried Yasha would strike her down if she came near. She didn’t, of course; instead she waited for Beau to pass her and then turned to face the group.

“I just wanted to let you know,” she said, “that if you touch him, I’ll fucking kill you.” Still no raised voice. She sounded almost polite. Around her, the air was a cold vortex. Beau rescinded every thought she’d had about Yasha not being good at verbal attacks.

“Ioun’s tits.” Beau hissed out air between her teeth as they left. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh.” Yasha frowned. Her eyes were back to their normal, mismatched color, highlighted by her smudged war paint. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just, _fuck_.”

“Yasha can be very charming when she wants to be,” said Molly, not sounding particularly concerned. Beau still had to focus on her breathing as she peeked up at Yasha.

“Why’d those guys think you’re from Xhorhas?”

Yasha pursed her lips. “I… might’ve told them so. When they asked. Because I am.”

“Oh. Maybe don’t tell people that? Prejudices, you know.”

Suddenly the accusations they’d spewed at her didn’t sound so far-fetched. She _had_ looked at DeRogna like she wanted to kill her, and the first thing she’d done afterwards had been to try get Molly out of the brig. Which meant that if Yasha was an impostor, Molly likely was too, and _that_ meant Beau was in a very dangerous situation.

But she wasn’t dead, and so it probably wasn’t them. Probably.

“I’ve never met anyone from Xhorhas before,” she said. “Excluding Essek, of course.”

“Well, this is what we look like. The ones who aren’t drow, I mean. Or goblins. Or gnolls, or bugbears, or…”

“Yeah, I get it.” She was about to mention that she didn’t think there were any humans in Xhorhas, but then she remembered Yasha’s eyes turning black, and the skeletal wings flaring out behind her, and thought that impostor or not, Yasha probably wasn’t human.

“ _I_ , however, am from the south,” butted in Molly. “Near Draconia, actually. It’s funny, really, both my parents were-”

“Molly, I know you’re bullshitting,” Beau cut him off.

“Oh, right.” Molly quieted. “Forgot all about that. Actually, I have no idea who my parents were and Yasha and the circus found me in a ditch by the side of the road.” He stopped talking and made a strange face. “Huh. I’ve never told anyone that before.” He squinted at her. “Are you… going to tell anyone?”

Beau was tempted to use it as leverage, but he didn’t really have anything she wanted. “Nah. Just don’t bother me and we’re fine."

“Fantastic.”

They walked in silence for a bit. The back of Beau’s neck started prickling, and when she looked up Yasha was staring at her.

“Um, Beau, there’s something…” Yasha gestured at her own face. “By your eye, you’ve got something-”

Beau automatically touched the spot Yasha was indicating, and then grimaced at the sting. “Battle scar,” she said. At Yasha’s confused look, she added, “It’s just a bruise from when we fought those pirates.”

It was barely even a bruise, really. No one but Yasha had noticed, and Beau herself had thought it was just a bit of dirt by the corner of her eye when she looked in the mirror that morning.

“Oh,” said Yasha. “Does it hurt? I don’t really feel my bruises unless they’re really big, but Molly complains about his all the time.”

“I do not,” complained Molly.

“Nah.” Beau stuck her chin out, trying to look bigger. It took a lot to look big next to Yasha. “It looks kind of cool though, right?”

“Sure,” said Yasha. “Like winged eyeliner, but like you gave up after only one eye.”

She sounded so earnest, Beau didn’t even think it was meant as an insult. Molly however started cackling so much he had to lean on Yasha’s shoulder to stay upright.

“You know what, I changed my mind,” said Beau. “It hurts really bad, I probably need to go to see Jester.” She hopefully held out her arms. “Carry me there?”

Molly stopped laughing long enough to roll his eyes and make a gagging sound. Beau ignored him.

“Uh,” said Yasha. “Maybe I could just, you know, do this?”

She reached for Beau’s face (Beau pretended she didn’t flinch; flinching away from pretty girls was bad for game) and placed a hand by the corner of her eye, making her blink repeatedly. Her hand was rough, calloused, but gentle, like she was caressing a flower petal. Beau’s trepidation evaporated and she leaned into the touch.

“There,” said Yasha, removing her hand. “Is that better?”

Beau poked her face; it didn’t hurt.

“Shit, yeah. You can heal?”

“Only a little bit. If you ever get stabbed I won’t really be able to do anything.”

“Huh.” Beau realized she was still poking her face, trying to catch what was left of the warmth from Yasha’s hand, and stopped. “Maybe you should still carry me to the med bay, though. Just to be sure.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” 

Molly squeezed in between them, leading with his elbows. Beau thought she could probably break it if she wanted; he was really pretty skinny under all his garish layers.

“Yasha, dear, why don’t you go talk to Fjord? Tell him it might be best if we change the sleeping arrangements for the night, to make the crew feel more comfortable. I’m sure Beauregard here can keep me safe while you’re gone.” He placed an arm around Beau’s shoulders and turned out to be surprisingly strong; she couldn’t worm her way out of his grip.

Yasha nodded. “I can do that. Just be careful, you two.”

Beau waited until she was gone before she said, “Remove that arm or I will snap it.”

Molly removed his arm.

“I just think we should talk,” he said. “About Yasha.”

“What, you two a couple or something?” Beau eyed him, trying not to show how much she hoped he’d say no.

“Gods, no. But she’s my friend, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Beau stared at him. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?”

“ _I’m just saying_ , Yasha is… sensitive. She doesn’t usually let herself get close to people. It’s not really for me to tell, but she has a lot of dark shit behind her and doesn’t need someone being friendly with her just to get in her pants. If anything, what she needs is someone being friendly because they want to be her friend.”

Beau didn’t do well with guilt. It was a nasty, sticky feeling, and it always made her want to shove it off before it had a chance to dig its claws in. She was under no illusions that she was a good person, and people didn’t usually treat her like they expected her to be one. Apparently Molly wasn’t on the same page, or he’d simply have told her to stay away from Yasha.

“Stop acting so high and mighty,” she snarled. “You just said you’ve slept with three people on this ship; you’re in no position to judge.”

“Oh, I don’t judge. Isn’t in my nature.” Molly grinned at her but quickly sobered. “And that was just sex. I don’t think Yasha’d be interested in that, but you could always ask. What I’m talking about is acting like her friend if you’re not really interested in being one.”

Beau bit her lip to stay quiet. She wanted to protest, wanted to say that she didn’t care for getting close to people either, but Molly was being all _expectant_ , and she wasn’t about to let someone like _him_ think he was better than her.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

* * *

Beau’s plan was as followed:

Agree with Fjord’s new plan to split the crew into two separate sleeping quarters that night. Suggest they keep a watch schedule to make sure no one get killed or tried to sneak off to somewhere. Wait for Caleb to volunteer. Offer to take watch with him. Interrogate the fuck out of him until he spilled all his secrets.

The first problem was this:

Nott would not leave them alone.

“There doesn’t really need to be three of us,” Beau said as Caleb brought out his spell book and Nott fiddled with her broken holomask controller. It was third watch, and everyone else was already snoring softly.

“I agree,” said Nott, tearing something out from inside the controller. “And you could really use your beauty sleep.”

Beau bared her teeth at her. “What I’m saying is, Caleb and I were supposed to keep watch.”

“An extra pair of eyes doesn’t hurt,” said Caleb. “And Nott and I are used to working together.”

“You know what? Fine.” Beau stalked over and sat down by them. “I said we were going to talk, Widogast, and we _are_ , but I can include Nott as well. The two of you are equally shady anyway.”

Caleb closed his book with a muffled _thump_. “You really want to do this.”

“I do, yeah.” Beau leaned closer. “You’re up to something, I can feel it, and I want to know what it is.”

Caleb was quiet for a while, and then he nodded. “Very well. Let me do something, first.”

Beau waited, impatiently tapping her fingers against the floor, as he performed a ritual. When he was done, a see-through dome sprang into existence around them.

“For privacy,” he explained. “So they can’t hear us.”

“Sure.” Beau craned her neck, studying the dome. “Hey, can you make this thing opaque?”

“If I want to.”

“Should put one around Molly, then.” To everyone’s horror, the tiefling preferred to sleep naked. Fjord’d had to give him captain’s orders to get him to at least put underwear on.

Nott smacked her controller down on the floor. “Get to the point, Beau.”

“Right. I want you to tell me what your deal is.”

“I already told you, we just want Caleb to get to do his research in peace.”

“I know a half-truth when I hear it. _What_ are you researching?”

They both fell quiet, equal looks of pale horror on their faces as they stared at the floor.

“It is… personal,” said Caleb softly.

Beau pointed a finger at the metal floor. “We’re locked in a _tin can_ in _space_. I’d say we’re obligated to know each other’s secrets, seeing as someone is _secretly_ eating people.”

“What about you?” Nott shot back. “If anyone’s hiding things it’s you.”

“How about a trade, then? A truth for a truth.” Beau leaned back on her palms. They didn’t say anything, so she kept going. “My family is, like, rich. Not _rich_ -rich, not like Jester, but well-off. And I sort of caused some trouble, so my dad had me kidnapped and hauled off to the Cobalt Soul. I didn’t like it, so I left and hid on this ship.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

She hadn’t told the story before, not even in this vastly abridged format. The trick, she realized, was making it sound like she didn’t care. Sound convincing enough to persuade not just them but herself as well. So her dad’d had her sent away when he couldn’t get her to be what he wanted her to be. So her mom had let it happen. Big deal. She hadn’t cared then and she didn’t care now.

Nott and Caleb were staring at her. Beau sneered at them.

“What?”

“Your _dad_ had you _kidnapped_?” said Nott, incensed.

“That’s what I said.”

“But- he’s your parent! Parents aren’t supposed to do that!”

“Why do you give a shit? You know what, don’t answer that.” Beau took a deep breath and stroked a couple of loose hairs back from her face. “This was supposed to be a trade, not a let’s-all-pity-Beau party. Spill.”

Nott glanced at Caleb, but he didn’t look back.

“Caleb,” said Beau.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t even seem like he could say anything, not without taking a breath first.

“It’s me,” said Nott, so quick the words melted into each other. Caleb looked up at her with a jerky motion. “I want- I need him to learn magic, _powerful_ magic, because he has to fix me.”

Whatever panic had overtaken Caleb seemed to be gone. He was staring at his friend, mouth slightly parted and brows drawn together. “Nott, what are you-”

“My name’s not Nott. I’m not a goblin. There was- someone did this to me, put me in this body. I’m not- I’m not _this_.”

“What the fuck.” Beau placed her hands palm-to-palm, fingertips-to-fingertips, in front of her face. Breathed in deeply. “You’re telling me you’re in the wrong body.”

“It is my body. They just- they changed it, somehow.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Nott. “I just know they figured out what I hated most and they turned me into it.”

She could be lying. She could be spouting the most outrageous story she could think of to take the heat off Caleb. Beau didn’t think she was. Too much raw pain in her scratchy voice.

“Nott, I didn’t-” said Caleb, voice breaking. Took a breath. “I’ll try. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”

Beau stood up. There was a feeling like passing through water when her head and shoulders passed through to the other side of the barrier. This was more than she’d bargained for. She hadn’t actually thought Caleb or Nott were guilty; Nott had been locked up, and Caleb had been too busy moping in the lab. All she’d wanted was some answers, maybe a bit of leverage. Not this… vulnerability.

“Why don’t you two talk this out?” she said. “I… yeah. You two talk. I’m going back to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses yet about who the impostor is? Come on, I wanna see if anyone gets close.
> 
> Next chapter: someone gets ejected.


	4. Orange was ejected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb has a (worse) day.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: some pretty severe body horror, as well as a near death experience in the cold unforgiving vacuum of space.

Caleb did not sleep for the rest of the night.

He knew he should; his head got fuzzy when he wasn’t well-rested, and that made his spell work unfocused and inexact. But knowing and doing were two different things, and telling his body to go unconscious did not actually make it do so. He was sure Nott had something on her that might help; a light poison of some sort, or maybe just good old fashioned alcohol, but…

Nott wasn’t Nott.

Nott was _Veth_ , Veth was a _halfling_ , Veth had _died_.

Perhaps he could ask Mollymauk for drugs instead.

By the time the last watch – Jester and Fjord, conversing quietly the entire time – ended, Caleb felt like someone had ground sand in his eyes. The others were slowly getting up, grumbling and gathering their things and asking Mollymauk to _put on some clothes, please, we’re begging you_. Caleb stayed where he was, face to the wall.

Eventually the sounds petered out, until only three or so people remained. He could feel eyes on him and lay very still.

“Should we wake him?” asked Jester’s light voice.

“No, let him sleep,” said Nott – _Veth; her name was Veth, and she’d been killed by goblins and woke up as one of them_. “I’ll stay with him and make sure he’s safe,” she continued, sounding no different than she had when she was still Nott.

“That’s probably not a good idea,” said a third voice – Fjord. “I’m sorry to say it, Nott, but people are suspicious of you. After what happened with Molly yesterday you should probably stay in a group.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Veth. “You think _you_ ’d have a better chance looking after him?”

“I think most people could kill you by accidentally stepping on you,” said Fjord. “Like a spider. Maybe you could stab them in the ankle as your last action.”

“I will snap your ankles, you skinny green-”

“ _Guys_ ,” hissed Jester. “You’re gonna wake him.”

Chagrined silence. Someone, presumably Veth, scraped at the floor with their shoe.

“I can stay with him,” continued Jester. “And if someone shady shows up I’ll just send a message, okay?”

“You sure?” said Veth. “It’s important he gets his sleep or his spells won’t work, and he gets all grumpy and-”

“Nott, it’s fine,” assured Jester. “Go get some breakfast. I’ll write in my journal for a bit and if he isn’t awake in an hour I’ll just pour a bucket of water over him.”

“You _will not_ -”

“Kidding, kidding.” A whooshing noise. Possibly she was trying to shoo them out the door. “Now go, or all the good food will be taken.”

Soft footsteps as they left, even softer voices as Jester and Fjord exchanged a few words. Then considerably louder voices from the hallway when Veth and Fjord picked their argument back up.

The day before, hearing it would’ve made Caleb worry. Not because he thought some petty argument might make Fjord hurt her, but rather the opposite. Veth needed people she couldn’t just be friendly with – like Jester – but those she could heckle and argue with without the fear of being called a monster. Maybe Fjord needed that, too; half-orcs didn’t have it as bad as goblins, but they faced more than their fair share of prejudices. And if Veth found other people. Well. Caleb wouldn’t be her only choice anymore. 

The thought of losing her because she found people who were friendlier, more understanding, _better_ , stung. Finding a good partner wasn’t easy. Veth was clever and useful in a fight, and she didn’t ask questions, nor did she judge the less than savory aspects of his personality. Losing her would be a significant downgrade.

But suddenly, he needn’t worry about that. She _needed_ him. And he should’ve been relieved, should’ve been glad he had one less thing to worry about. Whether he could actually help her or not, this bound her to him. He could lie, could say he’d find a way to do it, and when the lie got too big to keep he could simply leave.

Except, he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t think he could deny her, because, somewhere along the way, he’d started caring too much for it to be pretend.

“Hey Cay-leb.”

His bed dipped. He stiffened as Jester made herself comfortable. There was a rustle as she opened an old-fashioned paper journal and started drawing.

“I know you’re awake,” she said. “You’re too tense to be asleep, and your breathing’s all uneven.”

Caleb was quiet for a few moments more before deciding it was pointless. “I was trying to sleep, Jester.”

“Sure, sure.” She nodded. “You’ve been faking it for the last two hours, though. Is something wrong?”

“ _Nein_. Everything’s fine, Jester.”

She stopped drawing. He could feel her turn around and look at him. “Is this because of Essek? Because I think he really didn’t want to hurt you, if that’s any consolation. He’d still have _done_ it, probably, but he didn’t _want_ to. He _likes_ you. He didn’t even answer when I asked if he wanted to kiss you.”

“Kiss- why would you even ask-” Caleb reluctantly sat up. His body felt numb, hands and feet prickly. “I really am fine, Jester.”

“You don’t seem fine. Are you sure-”

“Jester, please.” Caleb rubbed at his stubble-covered chin, trying to get sensation back into his hands. “Just let me sleep.”

“But-”

“ _Sleep_ , Jester. Go eat with the others.”

Her face looked empty for a moment, and then she smiled. The corner of her eyes didn’t crinkle like they usually did.

“Nott said you were grumpy in the morning.” She stood, tucking the journal in a pocket and bouncing on her heels a little, too energetic for it to be real. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Maybe you need to _think_ about _Essek_.” She winked at him practically skipped out the room.

Caleb didn’t move for a while, and then leaned forward and slowly breathed out through his nose. He shouldn’t have done that; their situation had, if anything, gotten more precarious since Vess’s death. People whispered about Nott, about the _goblin_ , about how she shouldn’t be allowed free reign of the ship. They needed allies, people to back them up in case things came to a head. He couldn’t afford to alienate the few they had.

He buried his face in his hands, groaning. He’d have to apologize.

* * *

The hallway outside was empty. Caleb picked the direction that led to the cafeteria and started walking, trying to push his arms through the sleeves of his coat as he went. He’d worn his regular clothes that night, to be prepared in case of another attack, and now they were even more wrinkled than usual. He probably looked like he’d crawled through a pile of unwashed laundry. It didn’t matter to him, but Jester would more likely than not find it very funny. He figured he’d earned whatever teasing she’d throw his way.

A shrill scream echoed through the hallway. Caleb stiffened, still fumbling with his coat. The scream quieted, replaced by blubbering and sobbing and incomprehensible babbling. He started running.

Turning a corner, the source of the sound became obvious. There was a door lying on the floor, torn from its frame and blocking the hallway. Bright red blood had spattered the dull metal surface.

Caleb had one hand in the air, ready to summon Frumpkin and send him to check the room, when he realized he was alone. No one would be there to make sure nothing snuck up on him when he was blind and deaf and vulnerable. He breathed out, long and slow, and instead of snapping his fingers he summoned a small flame, more for comfort than as a weapon. Holding it out in front of himself, he carefully edged around the door, ready to turn and run.

It was a bathroom; a row of booths lined one wall, sinks and mirrors the other. Underneath the sinks was a dwarven man, curled up and covered in blood. In front of him, spread out in pieces on the tiled floor, was what was left of a person.

And there, kneeling over it, was Jester. Blood soaking through the skirt of her flowery dress, red covering her arms up to the elbows as she pressed her hands to the body’s cheeks and tried to force a healing spell into it. Caleb could feel the magic dissipate in the air, finding no purchase in the dead flesh.

He must’ve made some kind of noise, because Jester looked up suddenly. Her face was puffy and swollen, tears staining her cheeks.

“Caleb,” she gasped. “Please, a diamond, do you have a diamond? I think- it might not have been a minute yet, I could still…”

Caleb mutely shook his head. Jester made a choked noise and stood up, stumbling backwards away from the body.

Less than a minute. Caleb’s eyes darted around the room. No one there but Jester and the shivering crewman still hiding under the sinks. He carefully stepped through the open doorway, keeping the flame in one hand as he reached for telekinesis with the other and used it to slam open the doors to the booths. All empty. He let the fire go out.

“It was a _monster_.”

He flinched at the voice. The curled up man was clambering to his feet, slipping in viscera and clinging to the nearest sink, leaving red handprints on the white porcelain. His eyes were glued on Caleb.

“We walked in and it was- it was _eating_ her.”

“ _Ja_ , I… I see that.” Caleb glanced at the floor, finding part of a hand less than a foot away. The remaining fingers were curled in a loose fist. They looked remarkably normal if he kept his eyes away from the torn flesh and tendons; half-moons of dirt under the nails, skin the slightly dry and rough texture of someone who did physical work. Not like Caleb’s, which were just as dirty, yes, but quick and flexible and always smelled of spell components. Mage’s hands. Killer’s hands.

Something tried to wake in the back of his mind. Memories of people chained in cells, of him brandishing knives and being told where to cut, of blood on the walls and ceiling and _pieces_ on the floor. It was an ugly memory, but it wasn’t fire; it wasn’t _them_. There wasn’t really much guilt attached to it, just nostalgia tainted with ugliness. It didn’t take much effort to push it back.

He walked over and knelt by the body, not bothering to avoid the blood.

“Not having a very good morning, are we?” he mumbled, carefully grabbing its chin and tilting the head. The skull, he saw, was split from ear to ear and forced open like a cracked nut. The morbid part of him wanted to announce he’d found the cause of death.

He had to summon a flame again to be able to peek inside the skull. It was wet and slimy and dripping, and completely hollowed out. Flashes of white bone glinted in the firelight. Caleb couldn’t help but wonder if a simple revivify would’ve been enough to fix something like this.

“ _Ja_ , that is not pleasant.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his coat before turning back to the others. “Did you see who did it?”

The dwarven man shook his head. “It wasn’t a person,” he said, voice half a whisper.

“I think we surprised it,” sniffed Jester. She rubbed at her face, leaving bloody smears on her blue cheeks and chin seemingly without realizing. Fresh tears immediately dug tracks through them. “It went out the vent, didn’t even try to attack us.”

She pointed with a shaky hand at the furthest corner of the bathroom, where a dented vent covering lay forgotten on the floor. Above it a trail of blood led up the wall and disappeared into the dark.

Caleb nodded. “Okay, that is… we should get Fjord, _ja_? Tell him that-”

Before he had a chance to finish his thought, there was screaming again, from further away this time. Jester stiffened, looking wide-eyed at the open doorway.

“It’s still hungry,” said the dwarven man. He started shaking again. “It’s still _hunting_. We- we need to hide.”

He took a couple uncertain steps sideways, then seemed to make a decision and turned to run. Jester called at him to stop but he didn’t listen, just darted out the door, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind. Jester turned to Caleb instead.

“What’s going on?” she practically shouted. 

Caleb was already walking backwards towards the door, heart thumping and hand going for his pocket, searching for the copper wire. He found it and twisted it in a way that felt ingrained, automatic. A prickly feeling when the spell took effect.

“Nott,” he said, falling back on the familiar name. “Are you alright? Please respond to this message.”

“Caleb?” came the immediate answer. Caleb sagged in relief against the doorframe. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did something happen?” A sudden note of suspicion crept into her voice. “Did Jester pour water on you?”

Caleb cast the spell again, nodding at Jester to follow him into the hallway. “Another death,” he said, “in the bathrooms by the sleeping quarters. And… there’s some kind of attack happening nearby. We’re going to need help, I think. Make sure the others come.”

He put the wire away. Jester caught up with him and he let her take the lead as they hurried toward the screams. Caleb considered suggesting they wait for back-up, but Jester didn’t seem willing to wait; she cast spiritual weapon as they ran, and carried it in a white-knuckled grip instead of letting it float in the air after her.

There were at least two people still screaming, maybe more, as well as a gurgling, screeching sound that definitely _wasn’t_ a person. And then a roaring that he recognized as Yasha, followed by the horrifying sound of tearing flesh.

Jester put a hand on his shoulder, rebalancing her giant lollipop so she could carry it with only one hand. “The Traveler loves you,” she said, voice going high and brittle. A small light moved from her fingers to his arm, making him feel a little more awake, a little quicker. He nodded in thanks. Jester did not let go of his arm.

The screams were coming from the common room, where the crew sometimes gathered off-shift to play cards or drink or just hang out. Caleb had only gone there once, and had spent the majority of that evening in the corner with a book, miserably longing for his and Veth’s quiet, private room. It’s not that he was incapable of relaxing – he’d almost enjoyed himself that night after the pirate attack, before Veth was discovered – but just walking into a room full of strangers and being expected to socialize? Without there even being an ulterior motive, information to be gained? He shuddered at the thought.

At the moment, no one in the common room was very relaxed. Chairs and tables had been flung aside, and the lumpy couch by the wall lay on its side, cushions strewn across the floor. Someone peeked up from behind it but quickly ducked down again. The only person standing was Yasha, red streaking her pale face, mixing with the dark paint around her eyes, hair sticking to the sweat and blood on her skin. She held her new greatsword with both hands, laser activated and humming.

In the middle of the room was a monster.

It looked like it had, at some point, been a person. There was the vague suggestion of legs, an arm, a malformed torso tilted in the wrong angle, opened up along the middle in a wide, toothy maw. It didn’t seem to be using what was left of its legs to walk, but instead crawled and dragged itself using tentacles and sharp claws that had burst from its flesh. And there, at the top of it all, wobbling on an outstretched neck, jaw hanging limp and eyes staring blindly, was Vess DeRogna’s face.

“Oh,” said Caleb. 

Yasha screamed and leapt at the monster, cutting off a tentacle at the root. It fell to the floor, where it kept wriggling for a while before going still. Next to Caleb, Jester was standing motionless, mouth gaping. They both winced when the monster stood to its full height and used the maw in its torso to sink teeth as long as fingers into Yasha’s side.

A tendril whipped their way and Caleb, reflexively, cast a firebolt at it.

The creature didn’t turn its head toward them. Instead, eyes the size of saucers opened up in its back, splitting the skin and zeroing in on them. Jester woke from her shock with a squeak and cast her own reflexive spell, making tiny pink and glowing unicorns appear in the air, neighing a battle cry as they charged the monster and bit and gored chunks out of it. It moaned, dropped Yasha on the floor, and started to move towards Jester and Caleb.

Caleb decided this required the heavy artillery, dug some sulphur from a pocket and cast Fireball.

Fire was not the optimal weapon on a spaceship. It consumed too much oxygen, spread too easily, exuded smoke that worked its way into eyes and lungs and couldn’t be aired out through opened windows. The fireball completely decimated the common room. Chairs and tables turned to cinders, the couch caught fire – and, Caleb belatedly realized, probably saved the lives of the people hiding behind it – and a wave of heat scorched his face, forced out into the corridor by the enclosed space. He could feel his skin blister and automatically patted at his hair and stubble to keep them from going up in flame.

The creature screamed. It writhed on the floor, tendrils whipping through the air, limbs waving, something that was maybe a tongue curling as it burned. It smelled the same as burning things always did, but the _sound_ , the _movements_. No part of Caleb’s mind tried to trick him into thinking he’d set fire to anything other than a monster.

Or maybe not quite, he realized when a smoldering Yasha stood up from the floor, eyes blazing as bright as the flames. She strode up to the thrashing creature and raised her sword, stabbed it downward, as if trying to impale the floor. Stabbed again. Again.

Caleb had to look away. He wasn’t normally squeamish, but this almost made him feel sorry for the thing. Beside him, Jester grimaced and spoke a Healing Word. Yasha didn’t even seem to notice her burns healing over.

“You might need to cast Mending, too,” Caleb said, politely not looking at the places where Yasha’s clothes had burned away.

“Probably.” Jester took a deep, shaky breath and turned to him. “You alright?”

“It never even got close to me,” said Caleb, a little confused.

“No, I mean with the fire. Last time you burned someone you kind of zoned out a little. Are you okay this time?” She reached out and patted him sympathetically on the arm. “Getting into fights can be really nasty if you aren’t used to it, but it’s alright. It’s either you or them, you know?”

“No, ah, it’s just-” Caleb rubbed at the back of his neck. Veth had seen him go blank like that, too, but she’d never really pressed him about it, just made sure he was safe until he came back to himself. But it didn’t really feel like Jester was pressing him for answers either; she truly was just concerned. About him. About _him_.

Somehow, that made it worse. Someone as good as that shouldn’t be bothering with someone like him.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, and, despite wanting to lean into her comforting touch, pulled away.

* * *

By the time the others arrived, the thing that used to be Vess DeRogna, member of the Cerberus Assembly, Archmage of Antiquity, had stopped moving. Yasha was standing a bit away from it, angrily patting out her still smoldering clothes and hair, while Jester healed the crewmembers that’d been hiding behind the couch. Apparently it hadn’t completely shielded them.

Caleb didn’t feel too bad about it; none of them were dead, and if he’d waited any longer he might’ve been. In fact, he felt almost a little giddy. That was the funny thing about magic, he supposed. It either sent him into catatonics, or it reminded him of just how powerful he could be.

“What the fuck is that?”

Fjord, in the company of Caduceus, Veth, Mollymauk and Beauregard, had stopped in the door, staring, somehow looking even greener than usual. Veth scampered over to Caleb, quietly searching him for injuries, while Caduceus walked right past all of them and looked down at the monster.

“Our captain, I believe.” He tilted his head, eyes turning suddenly pitch black. Then he made a disgusted face, shivered like an unhappy cat and stepped back. “She’s a little undead. Just a little, mind you, but I really would prefer it if she wasn’t undead at all. It makes for bad tea.”

“You’re not,” said Fjord, with heavy emphasis, “turning _that_ into tea.”

Caduceus’s eyes went back to normal. “I wasn’t planning to. As I said, it wouldn’t taste very good. Could probably get some good mushrooms out of her, though.”

Over by the couch, the singed crewmembers were staring at him with open and obvious horror. Most of them looked fine, Caleb noted; Jester had moved on from them and were currently, in the company of Mollymauk, focused on doting on Yasha instead. Yasha stood there awkwardly dripping blood, keeping close to Mollymauk while Jester gushed at her, and looked like she’d preferred fighting a monster over this friendly attention. Caleb could relate.

“Just how undead is it?” he asked, turning to Caduceus while Veth clambered up his side to examine his face.

“You’re burned,” she said, displeased. “And your beard is all patchy.”

“It’s just some blisters,” Caleb said, carefully placing her back on the floor. “I’ll ask Jester to look at it later.”

She glowered up at him. She wasn’t, despite all the things he’d learned about her, really any different from yesterday. He found it comforting, and felt a little guilty for it. 

“I’ll go ask her right now,” she said, turning on her heel and striding over towards Jester.

Caleb forced away a smile. “Caduceus?” he said. “This thing, how-”

Caduceus raised a hand and waggled his fingers at Caleb’s face. There was an uncomfortable, itchy feeling as his burns healed all at once.

“Ah,” said Caleb, automatically running his fingertips over his cheeks, probably smearing soot all over them. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” said Caduceus. “And it’s not about to get up, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It was, in fact, what Caleb had been asking. He nodded and trooped over to the smoldering body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caduceus follow, wrinkling his wide, flat nose as he got closer.

“It probably would, if we left it for long enough,” he continued. “Parts of it are fully dead, and parts are undead, and then there are some parts that seem almost alive. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Been around many undead, then?” asked Caleb, kneeling down.

“Oh, lots. Though I prefer actual, proper dead. It’s easier to bury something that doesn’t try to climb back out.”

“I’m assuming you’ve buried a lot of people too, then.”

“Well, it’s kind of what you do at a graveyard.”

Caleb looked up, not prepared for that answer. Caduceus smiled at him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, mister Caleb,” he said, “what exactly are you looking for?”

Caleb cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the body. The head was still whole, unlike the dead woman’s in the bathroom. Malformed, yes, but with the skull still in one solid piece. “Brain’s intact,” he said quietly, half to himself, half to Caduceus. It was always easier to talk theories with a sounding board. “No sign of something having tried to… _get_ to it.”

While he talked to himself – because Caduceus didn’t really seem to be absorbing anything he said – the crew worked themselves up again. Apparently the new popular theory was that Dezran – _no; Essek, that was his name_ – had somehow controlled the corpse from the brig and made it attack. Utterly ridiculous, but not something Caleb planned to get involved in. In the end it was Beauregard who stepped in, waving her stick and telling the crew exactly what she thought of their suspicions.

“Now get out,” she said, once she was done berating them. “You’re stepping all over a crime scene.”

They attempted to continue the argument, but Beau gestured at the remains with an aggravated noise.

“That thing has already gotten back from the dead once; do you really want to be here if it decides to get back up a second time?”

“You know, she has a point,” said Fjord. “And I doubt it’s going to go for the spell casters when there’s much easier prey around.” He raised his voice. “Right, Caduceus?”

“What?” Caduceus blinked, looking a bit like someone had clocked him in the head with a frying pan. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. What’s happening?”

“It definitely would,” said Caleb while Caduceus stood there looking puzzled. “Very hungry beast, this thing.”

That did it; they all filed out like angry school children, muttering under their breaths and glaring. Once they were gone, Fjord held up a hand. Beau hesitated for only a moment before giving him a high five.

In the corner of the room, Veth seemed to have forgotten about her quest and was instead excitedly discussing the identity of the impostor with Jester. Outwardly, Jester seemed to be mostly back to normal, all wild gestures and exaggerated theories. It hadn’t occurred to Caleb before, the kind of masks she wore. During the short time he’d known her, she’d been bubbly and a little silly and constantly poking people to make them either squirm or smile. She’d also been ruthless in battle and not notably bothered by injuries or death, especially when caused by her. After the raider attack, he’d assumed she either simply didn’t care about those outside of her circle, or that she’d been through enough to learn to deal with it without lasting psychological effects.

Now, he remembered the way she’d kneeled over that body, cheeks streaked with tears, arms bloody to the elbow. Now, he noticed the way she’d sometimes glance at the thing that used to be DeRogna, eyes widening slightly before she quickly looked away again, a forced – but very convincing – smile on her lips. It got wider when Fjord and Beau came over, and wider still when they started asking about the earlier attack.

“She’s isn’t really dealing with it, is she,” said Caduceus, noticing where Caleb was looking. “Not that I can’t relate; personally I’d prefer forgetting I’ve ever seen this awful thing.”

“Any idea what it is?” Caleb asked.

“An alien, apparently.”

“No, I mean-” Caleb poked at it. The skin felt soft and mushy. “How does it work, do you think?”

“I really have no idea.”

For some reason, Caleb had expected him to; he seemed like the sort of person who knew things others didn’t. And suddenly, Caleb really, _really_ wanted to know more about this thing.

It hadn’t really sunk in before now that what they were dealing with was first contact. Usually, news of aliens not just existing but being intelligent would’ve been exiting, ground-breaking, _fantastic_. But things had been – a little hectic, the last couple of days. He hadn’t really had the time nor presence of mind to let the implications sink in. 

Proven extra-terrestrial life wasn’t unheard of; it was just that no one had found anything actually _alive_ yet. Only ever fossils, and only ever of lifeforms that had barely made it out of a single-celled existence. Not that that wasn’t thrilling in and of itself; it just wasn’t something Caleb could _use_.

But this? Something self-aware enough to pretend to be one of them, smart enough to pass, dangerous enough to take out Vess DeRogna? _That_ he could use. 

“It’s quite fascinating though, yes?” he said.

“Eh.” Caduceus tipped a hand from side to side in a universal gesture of ambivalence.

“You don’t think so?”

“I think I would like to know how to kill it, or at the very least how to make it stop eating people.”

“That’s true,” said Caleb, “but I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish to speak with it first – properly restrained, of course. It must know an awful lot.”

Caduceus frowned, looking down at DeRogna’s remains. Poked it with his toe until it squelched. “Are you sure?”

“Well,” admitted Caleb, “maybe not _this_ thing. But whatever or whoever turned her into this. The mere fact that it’s here, in our solar system, means it knows more about the universe than we do.”

A moment’s silence as Caduceus stared blankly into thin air. Then he shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“We’ve only barely managed to establish colonies on other celestial bodies,” Caleb explained, “and so far haven’t sent anything more complex than unmanned probes out of our own solar system. We’re decades if not centuries from having the technology and arcane knowledge to reach an actual extrasolar planet alive.” 

“An extra what now?”

Caleb came to the realization that maybe he’d judged Caduceus wrong. “A planet,” he said slowly, “in another solar system.”

“Ah. And you think this creature can help us do that?”

“It’s here, is it not? It must know how to achieve it.”

The thought made him a little shaky, not from nerves but from excitement. Knowing a murderous alien was lurking somewhere on the ship didn’t worry him nearly as much as DeRogna’s presence had; he’d already killed one of these things, and he knew that he was far from the easiest prey aboard. He’d have to be careful, of course, but he was always careful. And if only he could find it, if only he could _speak_ to it, well. Who knew what he could learn.

“Perhaps,” said Caduceus, rousing him from his thoughts, “these are things we don’t need to know.”

Caleb blinked. “Well,” he said. “ _Need_ is maybe not the right word. We don’t necessarily need to know any of the things we came out here to learn. But I would very much _want_ to know.”

“Hm.” Caduceus pursed his lips. Caleb got the distinct feeling of being judged. “You should be careful about that, mister Caleb. Knowledge is a hungry thing to reach for, and not one to let go once it gets its claws in. This creature is bad, and we should get rid of it.”

Caleb felt the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t know when last he’d wanted to do that. “We don’t know that it’s evil,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. Truth was he wouldn’t much care even if it was. They could kill it once he was done with it.

“Oh, it probably isn’t.” Caduceus crouched down next to him. His eyes turned black again. “‘Evil’ is a pretty useless word, I think. But we do know that it’s dangerous, and not very interested in speaking with us on equal footing.” He frowned suddenly, leaning closer to the remains. “And I think it might still be eating our captain.”

Almost as if on cue, the rest of the group walked over, Fjord in the lead. He came to an immediate stop when he heard Caduceus’s words.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“The undead parts are… _spreading_ ,” said Caduceus. “And weakening? I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s like it started out dead, and now little by little the undead-ness is moving over it, and the pieces it has passed are somehow alive again.”

“So… she’s coming back to life?”

Caduceus shook his head. “No. It’s… _consuming_ her and leaving something else in her stead.”

Fjord looked intrigued. He kneeled down next to Caduceus, made a visible effort to look unconcerned, and leaned over the body. “She _did_ call it an impostor,” he said, studying it. “Maybe it’s turning into something that looks like her. Or it might when it was done, at least.”

“Maybe that’s how it has babies,” Jester suggested. “It _infects_ people and then it _becomes_ them.” She wiggled her fingers in a way reminiscent of crawling insects, but still looked unsettled whenever she glanced at the body.

“That… weirdly makes a lot of sense.” Fjord grimaced, took a deep breath, gagged, and poked DeRogna’s face. The mouth fell open. “Yeah, she sure looks dead,” he said, voice choked. “Or undead. I don’t know.”

“Ah.” Caduceus held up a finger. “I wouldn’t do that. It probably won’t be getting up anytime soon, but it might still be able to infect people.”

Fjord stood up quick enough to leave a green blur behind. “It can do that?” he said, compulsively wiping his hand on his uniform jacket. 

“Oh, probably not.” Fjord stopped wiping his hand and glared. Caduceus smiled back in a way that was much too serene to not also be at least a little mischievous; no one could look that innocent and mean it. “But in all seriousness, we don’t know anything about this creature. It really might be able to worm its way into the head of the living just as well as the dead.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t even _know_ ,” said Jester, lowering her voice. She waggled her fingers again, directly at Fjord this time; he staunchly endured it.

“Either way, we should probably toss both bodies out the airlock,” he said, not looking at Jester as she ran her fingers like insect legs up his arm.

“Scared, green boy?” said Veth mockingly.

“Of this thing? _Yeah_.” Fjord gestured animatedly. “Have you _seen_ it?”

Veth looked like she wanted to continue heckling him, but then reluctantly nodded. “Fair point.”

After some more back and forth, some of the group – Jester, Mollymauk, Beauregard and Caduceus, with Caleb trailing along in the back – went to retrieve the second body and drag it to the airlock. Caleb didn’t expect he’d be much help; he mostly just wanted a second look at it before it was out of reach for good. He was tempted to suggest they let him use a spell to store it somewhere it wouldn’t be able to attack them if it were to wake up, but didn’t think the others would go for it. Some of them seemed to have really latched on to Caduceus’s infection theory.

“It’s not that far-fetched,” said Beau as they walked. “Maybe whoever the impostor is really doesn’t know it’s them. It could be like a parasite. Or mind control.”

“Really?” said Mollymauk skeptically. “You think someone could be _that_ and not know?”

“I mean, they’d know _eventually_ , when it took over completely. Or maybe they’d just fade away. But right now, they just go haywire every now and then and murder some people. It could be something that got in with the pirates. There were no attacks before, yeah? And then right after, DeRogna…” She mimed a stabbing motion at her neck, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth.

“Choked?” said Mollymauk drily.

“Got murdered! _Jeez_.”

There was a ringing noise, slowly growing to a piercing shriek. It took Caleb a few long heartbeats to realize it was coming from inside his own head.

He’d been shot during the raid. And Caduceus had never really checked to make sure the bullet was removed; maybe it hadn’t been a bullet at all. Maybe it was something else; a capsule, _an egg_ , something meant to turn his own mind against him.

But it couldn’t be. He’d been in the lab, he’d… 

He’d been in there for four hours. Alone. Thinking about, what? How miserable he was? How much he wanted DeRogna to drop dead? Gods.

“Hey Widogast, you okay?”

He looked up. Beau and Mollymauk had stopped walking and turned to stare at him. Caleb sucked in a quick breath.

“ _Ja_ , I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Beau pointed to his hands. “You look a little shaky.”

Caleb glanced down; his hands were indeed shaking. He clenched them into fists. 

“I think I’ll head back to the common room,” he said, trying to make his voice light. “To, ah, run some more tests on DeRogna. Before she’s thrown off the ship.”

Mollymauk frowned. “Want me to come with? It isn’t safe to be alone.”

“Oh, but we only just left,” Caleb quickly assured them. “I’ll be back there in less than a minute, no need to worry.”

They both looked like they wanted to protest, inspecting him like they though he’d have a breakdown any second. Caleb decided to use their worry, before he really _did_ have a breakdown.

“I’d rather not see that other body again.” He tapped his head. “The missing brain, it was… unnerving. Better I head back.”

They still looked like they wanted to object, but just then Jester raised her voice from further down the corridor, asking what was taking them so long. Caleb gestured at them to go.

“Fine, but if you get murdered I’ll find your ghost and I’ll punch it,” said Beau, jabbing a threatening finger at him.

“Delightful as always,” said Mollymauk drily.

“Fuck off.”

Caleb waited for them to round a corner, then stepped back until he hit a wall. He stood there for a while, leaned up against it, breathing through his nose as he tried not to throw up.

He wanted to say he was sure it wasn’t him; the majority of the time, he could trust his memory like no one else. He remembered every name he’d ever heard, every paragraph of every book he’d ever read, every single person he and Veth had scammed. And he was sure, _he was_ , but he’d been sure before, and it had cost him everything.

He needed distraction. Needed to give his mind something to do other than obsess over its own inadequacy. 

He started walking towards the brig.

* * *

Caleb might’ve taught Veth a little bit of magic, but she’d taught him some of her skills as well. Or tried to, at least. No tips and tricks in the world was enough to make him quick or stealthy or good with a crossbow. He did pick up how to bypass a lock, though. At least the simpler kinds.

The lock to the brig wasn’t very complicated. This wasn’t the sort of ship meant to carry prisoners; Caleb could bet they normally only used the brig to contain the occasional drunken crewmember. It still took him a few minutes to cross the right wires – not to mention several small electric shocks – but eventually, the doors slid open.

The moment they did, the captured raider rushed him.

Caleb yelped in surprise, hand automatically going to a pouch at his belt. He pulled out a handful of rose petals and practically flung them at the man as he cast Sleep. The man fell face first on the floor, sliding half out the open door. Caleb looked up. Essek was sitting by the wall, shackled and chained, staring at him, face blank except for one raised eyebrow.

“My, my,” he said, “ship sabotage.”

Caleb cringed, glancing at the panel he’d removed to get at the wires to the lock. He’d put it back later, hopefully no worse for wear. “I didn’t have a keycard,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.

Essek narrowed his eyes. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” 

He had his legs stretched out in front of him, looking bedraggled in a way he never had before, disguised or no. Seeing him with limp, greasy hair and dusty robes was strangely unnerving. 

“I would’ve cleaned up, but…” He rattled the shackles behind his back and gave a humorless smile.

“Well, I thought we had some things to discuss.” Caleb caught himself fidgeting and forcibly made his arms hang limp by his sides.

“By all means, go ahead.”

Caleb carefully stepped over the fallen raider, into the cell. “Are you…” he started, then had to stop to clear his throat. “Are you alright? Have you been fed?”

Essek snorted. “You needn’t worry about me. Your blue friend made sure I ate. Whether I wanted to or not, I might ad.”

“Ah, yes. Jester is very… determined.”

Caleb wasn’t entirely sure what to say after that. He’d thought he’d had this all figured out, had occupied his thought on the way here completely on planning this meeting, on the questions he wanted to ask. But now that he’s here the words felt awfully reluctant on his tongue. He’d been trained in information extraction; both the painful kind – the one that involved knives and fire and quiet threats – and the one that relied on sweet words and promises never meant to be fulfilled. He’d been good at it, too. Cajoling words and a pleasant tone of voice still got him what he wanted when being a forgettable nobody wasn’t enough.

And yet here he was, not a word in his mouth. His teacher would’ve been disappointed. The thought was enough to give him a sense-memory of pain and made him rub at his lower arms.

The quiet was growing like a sickly thing. Essek tilted his head to the side, making his hair fall over his eyes. He made a face and looked like he wanted to blow at it, but didn’t. Presumably it wasn’t dignified enough.

“I don’t know what you expect of me,” he said, almost sulkily. “Your _friends_ already found out what they needed.”

The cold feeling of mute paralysis was slowly easing out of Caleb. He crouched down to be on eye-level with Essek, coat pooling on the grimy floor and arms propped on his knees. Essek eyed him cautiously.

“I want to know why you’re really here,” Caleb said.

“As I said, your friends already found out.”

“I want you to tell _me_.” Caleb leaned forward a little, trying to look like the sort of person one confides in. He softened his voice. “I understand the things one does for knowledge and power; they have a powerful pull. What was it that pulled you, Thelyss?”

Essek pursed his lips, gaze flicking over Caleb’s face. “You take me for a fool,” he said at last, voice cold enough to burn. “We both know you aren’t my friend, _Widogast_ , so do not think acting like you are will win you favors. I’m a dead man either way, and I will not go out knowing I gave up what little I have for empty platitudes.”

“I could help,” Caleb offered. Essek only sneered at him.

“What a sweet lie.” Then he leaned forward, face suddenly mere inches from Caleb’s. “Would you save the man who tried to take your life, Widogast? What is it that pulls _you_ enough to make such a bargain?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. While he wasn’t exactly happy about having nearly been murdered, he also didn’t take it as personally as Essek seemed to think. He would’ve done the same, were the roles reversed. Wasn’t he here right now, trying to weasel information out of a man he knew for a fact would be executed once they made it back to Exandria? 

The thought, surprisingly, made him a little queasy.

“I have my reasons,” he said quietly.

“They must be quite good.”

“They are all there is, for someone like me.”

Essek looked at him for a little while, not saying a word. A muscle moved spasmodically in his jaw. Eventually, he asked, “Why did you come here?”

Caleb frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“You are a clever man; you knew I wasn’t going to give you anything. Why come here? To gloat? To look your would-be killer in the eye?”

Caleb glanced away. “There has been some… unforeseen developments. I suppose I needed a bit of a distraction.”

“Oh, I can be very distracting.”

They seemed to realize what he’d said at about the same time. Caleb raised his eyebrows. Essek’s already dark cheeks turned a deep bluish purple, burning away some of the distant, disdainful expression he’d been putting up since Caleb walked in. Caleb imagined he found it very frustrating.

“That you can,” he said. Essek glowered at the wall, still blushing.

“I meant,” he said, carefully measured, “that we could, perhaps, come to an arrangement.”

“Oh?”

“I will not give you answers simply because you ask, but there are things I would like to know as well.”

“You’re suggesting a trade?”

Essek’s face was turning back to its original color as he regained control of the conversation. “Something like that. There were mentions of an impostor. I would very much like to know more about that.”

Caleb could imagine as much. Essek hadn’t seen the bodies, hadn’t seen that monstrosity run amok in the common room. To him, another impostor meant a potential ally, someone who could, maybe, get him out. Caleb very much doubted it’d be interested in such an arrangement.

“We don’t know exactly what it is,” he said. “Some sort of alien parasite, if we can trust the words of a dead woman.”

“Oh? Your cleric used Speak with Dead, then?”

“Perhaps, but I believe it’s my turn to ask.”

The corner of Essek’s mouth twitched. He leaned back against the wall. “Go ahead, then.”

“That spell you used, back during the attack.” Caleb held his hands out in front of himself, pushing them together to indicate someone getting crushed. “That wasn’t telekinesis. I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

For a moment, Essek stared. Then he barked out a sharp laugh. “That’s what you ask about? Not why I’m here, or my contacts, but my magic?” The smile died, but his eyes still gleamed. “I knew there was something about you, Widogast.”

Caleb could feel his own face growing hot. “Those things don’t interest me. Magic, on the other hand…”

“It’s called dunamancy. It’s the study of the forces that that hold the universe together.”

Caleb felt like he was about to start shaking again, but from completely different reasons this time. He licked his lips. “Is, perchance, time one of them?”

“Among other things. What you saw was gravity manipulation. And as for my question…” He narrowed his eyes. “What were the _unforeseen developments_ you needed distracting from?”

Caleb made a face. “I suppose I should’ve known you’d ask.” Essek just stared at him, unmoving. Caleb sighed and went on. “There was another killing this morning. Turns out this creature can… _infect_ people. Or at least the dead.”

“Oh?” The chains rattled as Essek leaned forward. “You are telling me DeRogna came back?”

“Wasn’t DeRogna anymore,” said Caleb quietly. “There is… a theory going around, among some of the crew. That it, ah, that it takes over the mind of its host. That whoever killed our dear captain isn’t aware they did it.”

“Ah.” Essek nodded. “You’re worried you’re this… thing.”

Of course he’d figure it out right away. “It’s only natural to worry,” muttered Caleb.

“This might not be much of a consolation,” said Essek, “but I doubt something like that would allow me getting that close to killing it.”

Caleb blinked. Huffed out something that might, by the very generous, be called a laugh. “Strangely, that does help.”

Essek looked like he was about to reply, but then he stiffened and sat up straighter. “Someone’s coming.”

Caleb stood up, suddenly very aware of the sound of at least half a dozen approaching footsteps, and equally aware of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here. He scoured his mind, searching for a good excuse. Before he had the chance to settle on one, a group of people gathered by the door. They stopped, looking from him to Essek to the unconscious raider.

They were carrying tools; hammers and drills and a blowtorch, the closest they could get to weapons without access to the ship cache. Caleb held up his hands, trying for a reassuring smile.

“ _Hallo_. I realize this-”

One of them clocked him in the face.

Caleb didn’t know what they used; something heavy and blunt, swung hard enough to leave a dent in his head. On the floor, Essek cried out, struggling against his chains, while the crew started yelling at each other. Something about only needing to get rid of the crick, that Caleb didn’t matter, but others disagreed; he was _there_ , why would he be there if they weren’t working together, if he wasn’t a traitor and-

Caleb threw a firebolt. It mostly missed, but the group jumped back and he tried to rush past them, tried to get away. Hands grabbed for him and he hurled more fire, instinctively reached to burn and scorch but there were too many of them, too many hands, too many makeshift weapons.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head and he went down.

* * *

When he came to, Caleb was seeing double. Rough hands were dragging him through the hallways, barely holding him upright. He tried to mumble a spell, but his tongue was sluggish, and whenever he got close someone would hit him or kick him and he would black out for a little while more.

Eventually, he was thrown to the floor, two other bodies landing heavily on either side of him. He kind of wanted to stay there. Everything was spinning and he felt that he might throw up if he tried to stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the bodies clumsily get to its knees and turn toward him. It started nudging and then none to gently shoving him with its knee.

“Get up, Widogast.”

Caleb managed to roll over to his side, bumping into the knocked-out raider that lay sprawled next to him. Apparently the crew had decided to get rid of as many inconveniencies at once as possible. Bright ceiling lights made his eyes hurt, and cast Essek’s bruised and bloodied face in sharp contrast.

“Can you cast? Never mind; you have to. They’re going to open the airlock.”

It wasn’t the words that made Caleb realize the gravity of the situation, but rather the tone. He’d seen Essek bloodied before – Beau didn’t pull her punches – and he’d seen him standing his ground when outnumbered and surrounded by raiders, but he’d never seen him panicked. It was always cold, arrogant control or awkward nerves with him, never this wide-eyed, shaky terror. The words slowly sank in. _Airlock_.

Caleb sat up and nearly fell back down. Pain throbbed through his skull and made the small room they’d been locked in pulse. He’d had never been in an airlock before, but recognized it easy enough anyway. His mouth went dry.

“ _Widogast_ ,” said Essek insistently. He looked like he would’ve been shaking Caleb if his hands weren’t locked behind his back. “Do you have Teleport? Dimension Door? Anything?” 

Caleb did not have Teleport or Dimension Door, not today. He _did_ have Knock, though. Stumbling right back out into the hands of the murderous crew probably wouldn’t help much in the long run, but that was a problem for later.

“ _Auf_ ,” he slurred, clumsily grabbing for Essek’s elbow. “Up, help me up, get me to the door.”

Essek waited until Caleb had a good grip, then stood and took Caleb with him. Even with help it was hard; Caleb had to cling to his arm and felt the blood rush from his face. He did his best to ignore it and instead took a limping step toward the inner door, already starting to cast Knock.

And then the outer door opened.

It wasn’t quite as dramatic as the movies made it seem. Like a sudden, strong gust of wind stealing his breath away. Even Caleb, with his terrible strength, would probably have been able to keep from being sucked out if he’d had something to cling to. As it was, all he had was Essek. They both went flying.

* * *

Here’s what Caleb knew of decompression: it did not, in fact, make you explode. It did, however, make your lungs rupture, assuming you didn’t exhale within the first few moments. It made the moisture in your eyes and mouth boil and evaporate, and after about ten or fifteen seconds, lack of oxygen made you start blacking out. Ninety seconds in, your blood would begin to boil. Two minutes and you were dead, slowly radiating heat as your corpse fruitlessly tried to heat up the empty, uncaring void surrounding it.

Caleb breathed out.

He was still clinging to Essek’s arm, fingers already turning white from the cold. A bit away, the raider was slowly floating off, soon to be swallowed by the dark. There was nothing to stop them as they tumbled away, nothing to grab or push off of or to propel them in the frictionless space; if Caleb didn’t do something soon their bodies would keep flying in this direction forever. He still didn’t have Teleport, but maybe Telekinesis was an option? He could pull them back to the airlock, use Knock to open the door, and-

It would take too long. The edges of his vision were already turning black, his hands clumsy and his mind foggy. Beside him, Essek was squirming, face screwed up in a grimace as he futilely tried to break free of his shackles. An idea popped into Caleb’s sluggish mind.

His hands could barely shape the somatic components, and he had so little breath left in him that he had to practically mouth the arcane words. Not that it mattered much; sound couldn’t travel in a vacuum. But he could feel his throat working, forcing the words of Dispel Magic, and silently prayed to whatever god might be listening that it would work.

He’d thought dying like this would be like drowning; lungs desperately gasping, limbs flailing. But there was no time to long for air. Instead, there was the feeling of flesh and blood and organs pushing at his skin from the inside. His vision blurred as red drops forced their way out his eyes, his tongue swelled and grew limp and his mouth filled with boiling blood. His lungs felt like they were about to burst past his ribs and wouldn’t stop expanding no matter how empty they were.

Suddenly, Essek’s hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging in. The shackles were floating from one wrist, spell broken. Caleb’s vision had narrowed to a fuzzy tunnel, steadily growing darker. Through it, Essek’s pale eyes gleamed in the light from the ship as he mouthed his own words, blood spilling in globs from between his lips and the corners of his eyes. His cheeks were turning white, a pattern of frost on dark skin. Caleb’s last conscious thought before the tunnel closed off was that it was beautiful.

And then, air rushed around him. Oh, it hurt, _it hurt_ , organs being forced back into their right places, tongue and lips and eyes shriveled and dry, skin cracking and bleeding. He gasped in a breath and nearly whited out when his desperate body grabbed for every single molecule of oxygen it could get.

Essek’s hands were still on his shoulders. It occurred to Caleb, between the pain and the confusion and the utter, unadulterated relief, that that wasn’t good. Essek was free, magic no longer bound, and was, unlike Caleb, already on his feet. Not too steady, though; the moment Caleb tried to pull away, Essek gave a yelp and they both ended up sprawled on the floor. Caleb tried to get loose but was stuck underneath the drow, and Essek still wasn’t letting go of his shoulders. 

“Fuck, how did they do that?”

“They’re supposed to be dead!”

“That proves it, right? A person wouldn’t survive that.”

They stiffened, then as one looked up, along the corridor. The airlock was at the other end of it, their would-be killers still gathered by the inner door. Now, they gripped their makeshift weapons with new resolution and started drawing closer.

That was… well. To be perfectly honest, Caleb didn’t know how he’d get out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't go into space without a space suit, kids.
> 
> This portrayal of the impostor is strongly inspired by the 1982 movie The Thing. I highly recommend it if you haven't seen it, assuming you can stomach some gory eighties body horror.


	5. A thankless task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau is being responsible. Totally.

Beau liked to think she wasn’t squeamish; she was no stranger to blood and injuries. But this was just – excessive.

“Her head is open,” she said. “Just – why?”

“Told ya,” said Jester, who had indeed mentioned something to that extent on the way there, as had Caleb. She was standing over the fallen woman now, hands fisted tightly in her dress skirt. “It’s really gross, right?”

Beau pulled out her stick, extended it with a snap of her wrist and used it to jab at the body. It jostled slightly, but didn’t otherwise move. 

“Hey Duceus, is she, like, undead or anything?”

When she looked over, Caduceus’s eyes’d gone black. He studied the body from the doorway, head tilted to the side and unmoving. Real creepy looking. Then he visibly relaxed and strolled into the room.

“Not even a little bit. Kind of a relief, if I’m being honest.”

“None of that halfway dead shit?”

“None at all.”

Beau chewed at her lower lip, thinking. Then she poked the body again, trying to get a closer look at the pried open skull. “Think it’s got anything to do with this?”

“It’s possible.”

“Okay, how about this.” Beau held out her free hand, wordlessly asking for attention. “It’s supposed to turn into a copy, right?”

“Supposedly,” muttered Molly.

“Yeah, whatever. So it goes to turn into a copy. But to be a functional copy it also has to imitate personality and stuff, or people would notice, and maybe it can’t do that without the brain. That’s where the memories and personality is, right? So if the brain’s gone, it just stays dead. No point trying to make more of itself if it’s just going to get discovered.”

Jester clapped her hands. “That’s really smart, Beau!”

“What’d it _do_ with the brain, though?” said Molly, interrupting Beau’s preening at Jester’s praise. He gestured at the viscera-covered room. “Most of the other pieces seem to be here.”

“Most likely?” said Caduceus. “It ate it.”

“Oh!” Beau practically bounced in place. “If it wanted to make a copy, it’d be best not to fuck up the body too much, right? It’d make sense that the whole process might go bad if it has an imperfect template, and you’d end up with a monster going berserk instead of DeRogna 2.0.”

Caduceus frowned, mouthing, “Template?” while next to him, Molly shrugged. Beau ignored them.

“But DeRogna was way fucked up, like _seriously_ , so maybe it was planning to eat her too. But then Fjord showed up and scared it off before it had the time to, and we got stuck with this unhinged monster thing instead. It could’ve just been a monumental fuck up.”

“Or maybe it just wanted to kill her,” said Jester, a bit quietly, “and didn’t really think things through. She was so _mean_ , even a monster wouldn’t like her, probably.”

“That’s possible. Doesn’t explain why it went ahead and killed another person, though.” Beau’s eyes widened. “It could be playing favorites. Like, killing off whoever it doesn’t like.”

“Should’ve gotten you first, then,” said Molly. 

“Fuck off, people like me.” 

“Yeah, I like you,” Jester quickly assured her. “And Fjord does too, and Yasha, and-” 

“This is all very interesting,” interjected Molly, “but I think we came here with a task.”

Beau made a rude gesture in his direction. He made one back.

Turned out, they hadn’t considered exactly _how_ they’d transport the various pieces of victim to the airlock. Should’ve brought a bag, probably.

“This is the worst,” Beau said, holding out a severed arm in front of herself. She’d wrapped it up in her belt so she wouldn’t have to touch it directly, and now dreaded getting the stains out of the blue fabric. Caduceus walked next to her, having gathered up the various smaller bits and pieces in his coat, carrying it almost like a bag. Behind them were Jester and Molly, hefting the rest of the remains.

“Probably worse for her,” said Jester, looking like she was barely bothered by the weight.

“Ah, don’t feel too bad for her.” Molly, however, was breathing heavily. Jester had to slow down so he wouldn’t stumble. “She was one of the ones who wanted me kicked off the ship. Had me cornered by the bunks and everything.”

“Oh.” Jester perked up immediately. “That’s alright then. It would’ve been awful if it was one of us.”

“Definitely,” huffed Molly. “Hey Beau, could we maybe-”

“No. Carry her yourself.”

“Dick.”

Beau held up her severed arm. “You know it.”

They met up with the rest of the group near the common room, Yasha and Fjord each hefting an end of DeRogna, while Nott held one of the extra appendages so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. Caleb wasn’t there, Beau noted.

“I do hope you have a good laundry facility on this ship,” said Caduceus as they walked, giving a look to his probably ruined coat. It dripped red. “Or I’m starting to think I’ve made a mistake.”

They laughed, though Caduceus didn’t seem to understand why. It was strangely lighthearted. Maybe they were all like Jester, busy being happy the dead weren’t one of them. Beau couldn’t really bring herself to feel sorry for DeRogna or that unpleasant woman who’d harassed Molly (though she could relate to the urge), and had a feeling she wasn’t the only one.

Maybe it was the feeling of camaraderie. It wasn’t one Beau was used to; knowing she’d saved the lives of the people around her, and that they’d saved her. That they might actually be _upset_ if something happened to her. 

But then again, maybe she wasn’t actually included in that clique. Sure, Caleb had gone alternately ballistic and catatonic when Nott was in danger, and Jester had charged a pirate on her own when Fjord was threatened, and Yasha had stood up to DeRogna herself for Molly’s sake (not that he deserved it). But Beau wasn’t necessarily one of them. She was a stowaway. A runaway, not even wanted in her own family. There was no reason to think anyone would find her death upsetting for any reason other than losing a capable fighter.

She tried not letting the thought get her down. It wasn’t like she needed them, anyway. Would be gone like a shot the moment they got back on solid ground.

Nott was first to notice the sound. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, her big green ears standing straight up. Then she dropped the appendage she’d been carrying with a slimy thump and took off running.

“No, wait, come on,” Fjord called halfheartedly after her. “The floor’s going to get all gross.”

Beau walked up to the front of the group, head cocked to the side as she listened. Voices came from the general direction of the airlock, muffled through the walls and winding hallways. Then a muted _thooming_ noise that made the floor vibrate under her, followed by more audible shouting.

“Hey guys,” she said, “I’m just gonna start running, okay?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Nott’d already disappeared ahead, and had, by the time Beau skidded around the last corner before the airlock, joined in with the yelling. She’d also raised her ever-present crossbow and were aiming it at, of all people, Essek Thelyss, out of chains and looking like he’d been put through a particularly bad sparring session at her old monastery.

On the floor next to him, somehow looking even worse, was Caleb.

And beyond them, seemingly being pushed into the floor by some invisible force, was the rest of the crew.

“What the fuck,” said Beau at the same time as Essek gasped out a “Wait!” and Nott released a bolt into his upper arm.

He swore in some language Beau didn’t know and let go of whatever spell he’d been holding. The crew got to their feet, gasping and wobbly. All of them were holding improvised weapons; wrenches, pipes, an honest to gods’ blowtorch, and now raised them as they advanced on the collapsed wizards, murder in their eyes.

Beau might’ve let them. She thought to herself that if it was just Essek, she would’ve. Totally. Definitely.

But Caleb was there too, looking like death rolled over. He was trying to move but could barely sit up; the way he clung to Essek, white-knuckled and desperate, seemed to be half as support, half in an attempt to keep Essek from getting any closer. Nott already seemed to regret putting a bolt in him, and was now frantically trying to dash in between her wizard and the crew.

Beau flung her grizzly wrapped-up arm at the one leading the charge.

The woman stumbled and yelped in surprise. Beau took the chance to extend her staff and place herself like a wall blocking off the hallway. Nott, meanwhile, dropped her crossbow and started checking on Caleb. She babbled as she did so, an unintelligible ramble that mostly seemed to boil down to ‘oh gods Caleb’ and ‘you’ve been _outside_ ’, something which seemed to upset her greatly. Essek just pressed himself to the wall and clutched at the bolt sticking out of his arm, splitting his wary focus evenly between Beau and the crew. Beau didn’t like her chances.

Thankfully, Fjord and the others caught up before things really came to a blow. Beau stepped aside to let him pass but didn’t let her guard down. The crew didn’t either, instead gripping their weapons tighter.

“Okay,” said Fjord, looking from the bloodied wizards to the furious crew. “I believe this warrants an explanation.”

An immediate explosion of accusations. Something about Essek being ‘obviously evil’ and Caleb ‘trying to let him out’ and how they ‘should’ve been thrown out long ago’ and even ‘you’re one of them aren’t you’. She wasn’t entirely sure who the last accusation was aimed at. All of them, possibly.

Fjord made a half-hearted attempt at calming them, hands raised in a placating manner and voice its usual smooth timbre. They didn’t listen. Probably couldn’t even hear him over the yelling. By the time they started moving forward again, having egged each other on enough to seemingly forget that they were outnumbered and outgunned, he gave up.

“Okay, yeah, that’s enough.” He placed his feet shoulder width apart, his raised hands no longer looking placating but rather like they were reaching for something. “Y’all need to back the fuck off.”

“Fuck you,” snapped someone. Fjord gave a theatrical sigh.

“You really aren’t giving me a choice,” he said, though a thrilled smile curled his lips. He closed his fists.

What Beau noticed first was the sound. It was a wet sort of slithering, an undecipherable whisper that made her teeth ache and the hair on her arms stand on end. 

The second thing she noticed was the darkness. It started out as just a distortion, like seeing something through an uneven sheet of glass, before quickly darkening to black and spreading across the hallway like a rip in reality. From it came a wave of wet, sticky cold.

And then came the tentacles.

They reached blindly out of the spreading darkness, their very presence making things… crocked. The dark tear was one thing, like seeing into someplace Other, but the tentacles were that Other encroaching where they didn’t belong, weren’t welcome. Nausea roiled in Beau’s stomach. She wasn’t supposed to see something like _that_ in a place _like_ this; smell the rankness of it, hear the hissed, far-off whispers curling into her mind like reaching fingers.

The crew turned tail and ran.

“Sure, run!” Fjord shouted after them, hands cupped around his mouth. “It’s not like you’re stuck on a god’s damned _spaceship_ with me or anything!”

They did not stop to listen. Within five seconds, they’d all disappeared around a corner like a herd of fleeing cats. Fjord snapped his fingers and the dark rift swallowed in on itself and disappeared, taking the slithering noises and tentacles with it. The cold remained.

“Didn’t know you were into that sort of stuff,” said Molly, sounding slightly off-kilter and like he didn’t want to admit it.

Fjord’s pleased look was exchanged with one of confusion. “Into what?”

“Tentacles,” said Molly, grinning widely when Fjord blushed a dark green.

“It’s a _spell_ , not- you know what, just forget it.”

The bone deep fear Beau’d been feeling eased up. She breathed out, reminding herself that this was just what mages were like: fucking weird. The fact that it happened to be tentacles didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“I’m going to kill all of them for this. Going to _rip them apart_ and-”

“Nott, I’m okay-”

“They put you outside!”

How many times had she said ‘outside’ now? Whatever it meant it clearly upset her, and made Beau take a closer look at Caleb and Essek. Some of their injuries were obviously from a beating – cuts and bruises and a nasty split lip on Caleb. Others looked different. Cracked and weirdly swollen skin, bleeding from eyes and noses and ears, the whites of their eyes turned almost completely red from burst blood vessels.

Shit. By ‘outside’ she really meant _outside_.

“It’s really not-” Caleb started, but had to stop to cough up some blood. Next to him Essek slumped down, breathing out for what might’ve been the first time in minutes. He was still leaning on Caleb, though he barely seemed aware of doing it.

Nott stopped scowling and turned frantically towards the group. “Jester, what are you waiting for? Heal him!”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Jester went to dart forward, but Fjord stopped her with a held out arm. She gave him a quisitive look.

“Hold on a moment,” he said. “Some things still need explaining. Caleb, what were you doing with the prisoner?”

Caleb wiped blood from his mouth. “I’m sure this can wait.”

“No, I don’t think it can.”

“He’s _dying_ ,” snarled Nott.

”He’s going to be fine. Probably.”

Nott’s eyes flicked toward her dropped crossbow. Fjord reacted quicker.

A gun materialized in his hand, the long barrel steaming slightly, as if freezing cold. The metal was smooth and pitch black, with the exception of a strange, eye like design on the handle. It looked old; Beau’d expect something like it in a period piece, not in active use aboard a spaceship.

Fjord aimed it right at Caleb’s head. Caleb went very still. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” said Fjord. “What were you doing with the prisoner?”

“We were talking.” Caleb’s jaws were pressed so tightly together Beau could barely make out his words. “I wanted to see if he knew anything about the attack.”

“So you just went there yourself, without telling anyone?”

“Like you would’ve allowed it.”

“This is ridiculous. Fjord, I’m healing them. _Both_ of them.”

Jester shoved her way past Fjord, who just yelped and didn’t try to stop her. He even aimed his gun toward the ceiling, as if to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally fire at her.

“Jester, it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care.” 

Jester kneeled on the floor and placed one hand on Caleb, one on Essek, who flinched at the contact. Caleb seemed to relax into it and gave a shuddery breath when pink sparkles of healing magic washed over him.

And then the lights went out.

* * *

It only took about ten seconds before the emergency lights kicked in, flooding the hallway in a red glare and accompanied by blaring alarms. It was enough time for Essek to attempt to make a break for it. 

He didn’t even get off the floor. By the time Beau’s eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light, Jester had him pressed against the wall, one hand at his throat and the other gripping his uninjured arm. Magic danced around his fingers, dying as Jester cut off his airflow and stopped him talking.

“Now, now,” she said, gently scolding, “I’ll only heal you if you’re nice.”

Essek made a choked noise but didn’t try to break loose.

Beau, at the risk of repeating herself, said, “What the fuck is going on?”

Fjord had moved his aim to Essek, but once he saw Jester had the situation under control he pulled out a comms device similar to the one Beau’d seen Yasha use earlier. He stared at it mutely.

“Well?” urged Beau.

“They sabotaged the ship.” Fjord looked up, looking like he barely believed his own words. “They _stole_ the _escape shuttle_.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! Everyone who isn’t here, I guess.” Fjord swore to himself, angrily stabbing at his device. The gun was gone, Beau noted; she hadn’t seen where it went. “The reactor is all but gone. If it has a meltdown…”

“I can fix it.”

Beau turned to stare at Essek. Jester still had him up against the wall, but had eased her grip slightly. Beau lifted her staff and pointed it at him, stopping inches from his face. He flinched.

“Sure,” she said. “Bet you wouldn’t take the chance to try and get out of here.”

“He just said you lost your escape shuttle,” hissed Essek. “I’m stuck here just as much as you are, and I don’t like the idea of blowing up.”

Beau narrowed her eyes at him. Looked to Caleb. “Could he do it? Fix it, I mean?”

Caleb still looked terrible, but less like he was actively dying. Now he glanced at Essek. “Probably. His magic is… different from mine. Very powerful.”

“That reactor is powered by magical energies similar to the ones I’ve studied,” said Essek. “I can at the very least stabilize it.”

The alarm was still screaming. It made Beau’s head hurt. She didn’t move her staff.

“Fine,” snapped Fjord. “Jester, you and me are keeping an eye on him. And we’re putting handcuffs on Caleb for now, _don’t argue with me_. Nott, you’re good with tech too, right?”

“Fjord? Uh, captain?” Yasha hesitantly held up a hand. In her other, she held her own comms device. “I think O2 is about to go as well?”

“I know, I know.” Fjord pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing down at his device. “Power’s out in electric. We’ll have to go outside to reroute manually. Yasha, they gave you a spacewalk course for your position, right?”

“Yes?” said Yasha, drawing the word out into a question.

“Good. You take care of it. It’s just some rewiring.”

He was already turning away, giving instructions to Jester to restrain Essek, but Beau saw Yasha’s naturally pale face go practically translucent.

“I don’t think I-”

“I’ll come with,” said Beau quickly. “I’m pretty good with tech.”

Next to Yasha, Molly eyed her up and down, deeply skeptical. “You ever been in a spacesuit before?”

“Yes,” lied Beau. “What, you think I’d stow away on a spaceship without knowing how to handle myself?”

“Probably.”

“It’s okay, Molly,” said Yasha. “I’ll need help, and you don’t know anything about _wires_ either.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to take _her_ ,” muttered Molly.

Beau walked past him towards the airlock. “Not really any options, unless she wants to take you. Or Caduceus.”

“What?” said Caduceus, who’d kind of just been standing there during the whole talk of meltdowns and esoteric spacetime magic or whatever it was Essek did. Beau made a gesture as if to say “see what I mean?” Molly grimaced but made no further protests.

* * *

Perhaps claiming she knew how to use a spacesuit wasn’t the brightest thing Beau’d ever done. But Yasha’d looked so panicked, and Beau knew she could help; she was always the one fixing up computers and other tech at the monastery. To be fair she was usually also the one who broke them to mess with the monks, but that was neither here nor there.

“Here,” said Yasha as Beau struggled with the clasps to her suit. She gently pushed Beau’s hands aside and finished up the clasps. Beau felt like she’d been wrapped in cotton and plastic and mourned not being able to feel Yasha’s hands.

“I’ve done this before, you know.”

“Sure.” Yasha put her hands on either side of Beau’s helmet and turned it another half a turn. It clicked when it locked into place. “Ready?”

Beau swallowed. “Yeah.”

The radio buzzed to life inside her helmet. “Venting,” came Molly’s voice. “Try not to let the wind knock you over, Beau.”

Beau gave the closed inner door the finger as air rushed out around her, taking all sound with it. A few seconds later, the outer door opened.

It didn’t, technically, look any different than from the observation deck. Blackness, stars, various protrusions from the ship sticking out and breaking off the view. But it felt different. The only thing protecting her from the vacuum was a suddenly very flimsy suit.

Beau swallowed again.

Molly was yammering away in the radio, trying to give them instructions and failing miserably. Beau ignored him and pulled up a manual on her helmet’s holo display, taking a minute to study it. Then she nodded to herself and grabbed Yasha’s hand.

“This way.”

They walked along the outside of the ship, magnetic boots locking onto the hull. It was slow and clumsy going, and Molly kept talking. Less to instruct them now, and more to complain that they weren’t listening. Beau thought he was maybe trying to lighten the mood. It might even have worked; she felt less like panicking and more like punching him.

“Hey Yasha,” she said, breaking through Molly’s incessant chatter, “switch your radio to channel two.”

She switched herself without waiting for an answer, cutting off Molly’s indignant ‘ _Hey_ ’. The only sounds were her own soft breaths and the humming mechanisms of the suit. Outside was a quiet cocoon entombing her.

Then came a click, and Yasha’s voice hesitantly saying, “Beau? Can you hear me?”

Beau breathed a sigh of relief before she could stop herself. “Yeah, I hear you.”

Fjord hadn’t been kidding when he said all they’d have to do was some rewiring. It was almost suspiciously easy, and Beau wasted several minutes going over the manual multiple times to make sure she hadn’t missed some crucial part. Eventually she accepted that it was just as simple as it seemed, and instructed Yasha to work on a nearby panel while she herself moved over to a further off one.

They conversed while they worked, mostly to make sure one of them didn’t float off into space without the other noticing, and to let Beau explain how to do the repairs. Somewhere along the way Yasha mentioned she found Beau’s quick adaptation to the spacesuit impressive, and Beau couldn’t form full sentences for three whole minutes.

“You’re much friendlier when there’s no one else around,” she said once she was back to her full faculties. “Is it, like, bad for your reputation to be seen talking to me?”

“A little bit, probably,” admitted Yasha, which was more than Beau’d expected. “I’ve been told I’m scarier when I’m quiet.”

“Whoever told you that is an asshole,” said Beau, fiercely and with feeling. “You can be super fucking scary when you talk. Your voice gets all, like, chilly.”

“Molly said that, too.”

“That guy’s a dick, but he’s also right. And please don’t let him know I said so, he’d get insufferable.”

Yasha laughed. It was soft and short-lived, and left Beau with a warm, proud feeling.

“Besides,” she added, riding the high, “you don’t have to be scary all the time. It’s nice just to talk to you.”

Yasha got a little quiet after that, but eventually said a soft, “Thank you, Beau. It’s nice to talk to you too.”

That made Beau forget how to put words into sentences for another while.

By the time she was finishing up the wiring, a small light had turned on on her display, warning her that she had only seven percent oxygen left. Plenty of time to get back. She slammed the panel closed.

“Hey Yasha,” she said as she screwed it into place. “You good over there?”

“Yeah, I just…” Yasha floated motionless, a wire in each hand. Beau squinted at her, one foot already headed back toward the airlock. Something didn’t feel right. She was too far away to see the colors clearly, but she got the distinct feeling they didn’t go together.

Her oxygen dropped to six percent.

“Hey,” she called, automatically raising her voice even if she didn’t technically need to. “Are you sure-”

Yasha touched the wires together. Sparks shot out, and Beau saw lights go out through a nearby window. Yasha went limp.

Beau didn’t think. She deactivated her magnetic boots and used protrusions in the ship’s hull to quickly propel herself toward Yasha, who had started drifting away. She’d floated nearly twenty feet by the time Beau reached the spot she’d been working on, and Beau again didn’t stop to think. She stomped off from the hull, shot through the emptiness and collided with Yasha.

It was enough to wake her up. She flailed wildly and would’ve knocked Beau in the head if it wasn’t for the helmet. Instead, it just sent a dull thud reverberating through Beau’s suit.

“Hey, hey, chill.” Beau grabbed at her arms, trying to make her stop thrashing long enough to meet Beau’s eyes. When she did, she looked frantic, like she didn’t know where she was. Beau leaned forward until their helmets knocked into each other. “You’re fine, Yasha, it was just a little shock.”

Yasha stared at her. Then she took a deep breath. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

“You know, I kind of expected you to be shock proof.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m not.”

“Noted.”

Beau grinned, and was just about to activate her suit’s thrusters to steer them back to the ship when suddenly her helmet display started beeping and blinking insistently. Her little race across the hull had made her use up oxygen quicker than expected: she’s down to half a percent. Already she was getting light headed.

“Shit.”

Yasha blinked, calmer but still clutching onto Beau. “Is anything wrong?”

“My oxygen- shit, fuck, I need to get back.”

Yasha went serious in the span of a heartbeat. “Hold on,” she said, shifting her grip on Beau until she held her with one arm around the waist. With the other she hit a button, activating her thrusters, and started steering them not back to the hull but straight towards the airlock. Beau held on as best she could, but it was getting hard to breathe. 

She remembered thinking death in space would be peaceful. Quiet, darkness, quietly twinkling stars stretching out all around her.

This was not peaceful. Her oxygen alarm was still screaming, warning lights blinked all over her display, and her heart beat fast enough to nearly rattle its way right through her ribcage. She was panicking. Normally, panic wasn’t entirely unwanted in a life or death situation, assuming it didn’t hit until all other avenues had been tried. It gave an extra burst of adrenaline, one last chance to hit hard enough or run fast enough to get away from whatever was trying to kill her.

This time, panic didn’t help. The airlock was too far away, and all it accomplished was making her use up what little air there was faster. She kept breathing, kept _gasping_ , but there was nothing, nothing.

She blacked out.

And came to with lips pressed against hers.

She sat up so quickly she knocked her head painfully into Yasha’s. She moaned and leaned forward, folding herself double and clutching at her chest. Waves of pain were wracking her lungs and head, and her whole body felt weak and shivery. Inside her chest, her heart beat like it’d forgotten the right rhythm.

A hand awkwardly patted her back. “There, there, it’s alright.”

It was such a helpless gesture that Beau couldn’t help but laugh, even if it made her cough and wheeze. “I _died_ ,” she managed to gasp.

“Only a little,” said Yasha, still patting her back. “Your heart never stopped.”

“ _Fuck_.” Beau pressed her forehead against her knees. Then she realized her lips were tingling in a familiar way. “Wait. Did you heal me with your _mouth_?”

“Kind of?” Yasha stopped patting and leaned back on her heels, hesitantly eyeing Beau. “Was that okay? I didn’t mean anything by it, it was just- you needed air.”

Beau wheezed out another laugh. She considered telling Yasha it was one of the worst kisses of her life, and she knew bad kisses – she’d started out dating a boy, after all.

“Told you bringing her was a bad idea.”

Beau glared at the airlock’s open inner door. Molly was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down his nose at her. He made a good show of looking unruffled, but Beau saw the way his hands clenched and nostrils flared. One of his feet were tapping nervously against the floor.

“Fuck off, no one likes an ‘I told you so,’” she said weakly.

“I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to have a good time.” He pushed off from the doorframe. “And we’re supposed to gather in the cafeteria when we’re done, if you’re finished whining.”

“I _died_.”

“Oh please, your heart didn’t even stop. Come back when you’ve had to dig your way out of your own grave.”

“I-” Beau frowned. “What?”

He waved a hand at her. “Never mind. Come on, team meeting.”

Beau turned to Yasha. Tried to smile and felt like throwing up. She legitimately didn’t think her legs would carry. “Carry me?” she asked, and didn’t even have to make an effort to sound pleading; her voice was quaking all on its own.

To her surprise, Yasha actually obliged, picking her up in both arms like she weighed nothing. Beau gave a surprised yelp and clung to her upper arms.

“It’s just any excuse with you, isn’t it,” said Molly. Beau declined to answer, leaned her head on Yasha’s shoulder, and drifted off again.

* * *

She felt better after Caduceus met up with them in the cafeteria and gave her another heal, but her head still ached like a particularly bad hangover.

“It’s the carbon dioxide,” Caleb explained. He was sitting on the other side of the table from her, hands shackled in front of him and cat in his lap. “When the suit runs out of air there’s just what you breathed out left, and it-”

“Yes Caleb, I know how breathing works.” Beau leaned forward until her face lay flat against the cool tabletop. She heard the others discuss whatever they were supposed to do now at another table, but was too tired and sore to include herself.

Something furry bumped against her head, and Beau nearly flung herself off her chair. It meowed indignantly at her reaction.

“Oh.” She relaxed. “Hello, Frumpkin.”

The cat gave her a disdainful look before promptly stepping off the table and into her lap. Beau scratched his ears and he started purring.

“You know, I always wanted a pet,” she said, looking for the best place to scratch. “But dad wouldn’t let me, and pets weren’t allowed at the monastery.”

Caleb brightened. “Oh, you couldn’t go wrong with a cat. Wonderful creatures, very loyal. Smart, too. And there are so many different kinds! You’d probably want to look into what breed you’d want, there are short hairs and long hairs and these ones with really tiny legs-”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe a dog,” said Beau, having to practically talk over him. Caleb quieted as if she’d slapped him.

“A dog,” he said, looking her in the eye for what might’ve been the first time ever.

“Yeah.”

“ _Why_ would you get a _dog_?”

“They’re a bit sturdier than cats, right? Might actually be of some use in fight, if I get a bigger one.”

“They slobber. And bark.”

“Your cat would die if someone poked him too hard,” said Beau, weirdly defensive of her theoretical future dog. Frumpkin made an unhappy noise and hopped from her lap. “No, wait, come on Frumpkin, I didn’t mean-” 

She tried reaching for him, but the cat slunk away and climbed up Caleb’s shoulders. He gave her an undeniably smug look. Beau stuck her tongue out at him.

“Okay, so we might have a plan.”

Beau looked up. The rest of the group was coming over, Fjord in the lead. Jester was dragging poor Essek around by the neck, and Nott kept her crossbow steadily pointed at him, though she did spare a moment every now and again to glare at Fjord. He stayed standing while the rest each picked a chair around Beau’s and Caleb’s table. 

Jester sat next to Beau, close enough for their knees to knock into each other. Beau knocked back maybe a bit harder than was necessary, and Jester giggled.

“So there’s only us left,” said Fjord, standing straight with his hands behind his back. “And I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not keen about something like this happening again. We need to build some trust.”

“We’re holding another Zone of Truth!” blurted Jester excitedly. “Right here, right now, and don’t try to resist because I will _know_.” Then, without waiting for anyone else’s input, she snapped her fingers and said, “Oh Traveler, make sure no one here can hide any juicy secrets, bless.”

Fjord managed to keep a straight face, even if his lips twitched a little. “Thank you, Jester. Now, first things first. Is anyone here an alien?”

A chorus of noes and shaken heads. Opposite Beau, Caleb had gone suspiciously silent. They all stared at him.

“I don’t know,” he blurted. “You were all talking about that theory of yours earlier, that whoever it is might not know, and I _don’t_. I don’t think it’s me, but I can’t actually prove it.”

“Oh great,” said Molly, grimacing. “Now all of us have to put a disclaimer to our answer. ‘No, I’m not to my knowledge an alien.’”

Caleb looked somewhat shocked that his existential crisis wasn’t taken seriously. “I don’t-”

“You don’t think it’s you,” Molly cut off.

“I don’t.”

“And you don’t want to kill any of us?”

“No!”

“Good enough for me.” Molly leaned back in his chair, ignoring Caleb’s stunned expression. “Anyone else think they might be an alien?”

“Nope,” said Beau, everyone else chiming in. Jester had to poke Essek, who glared and grumbled out a “no” as well. Jester grinned and kept poking him.

“Hey Essek, do you have a crush on me?”

Essek looked, for a moment, absolutely horrified. Like someone had stuffed raw, dirty potatoes in his mouth and claimed it was a delicacy.

“ _No_ ,” he said, sounding like he’d never in his life wanted to be believed more than in this very moment.

“What about Caleb, though? Do you have a crush on him?”

“Let’s try to stay focused,” said Fjord, saving Essek from having to answer. Caleb, meanwhile, had gone bright red. “Yasha, I don’t think you answered Molly’s question.”

Beau stiffened. She hadn’t noticed; she was so used to Yasha not talking much. Now she stared at her, saw her open her mouth to speak with nothing coming out.

“I- I didn’t think I thought so,” she said finally. “Not until just now, when Caleb brought it up.”

“And why do you think it might be you?”

“I have some… issues. With my memory. I know I’ve done bad things without remembering them before.”

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to elaborate on that,” said Fjord. “Tell us what you mean. In detail.”

“She doesn’t have to-” Molly started, but stopped when Yasha held up a hand.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll… I’ll tell.” She wasn’t looking at any of them, eyes locked steadily on the table. “I was… I lived in a tribe, before. In Xhorhas, though most of you already knew that.” She tried on a smile, but it looked mostly like a grimace. “Rules were pretty strict there. For survival, you know, and to strengthen tribal ties. If someone didn’t follow the rules, or were judged a risk for the rest of the group…” She quieted. Closed her eyes for a minute. Breathed in. Kept going.

“One of the rules were celibacy until we were appointed a mate. We were supposed to be dedicated to be to the tribe, not our partner, so our leader, the Skyspear, chose one for us. But I… I met someone. We got married in secret. We both knew we weren’t supposed to, that it was dangerous, but we saw no harm in it, and I suppose we assumed no one else would either. They did, though. They killed her when they found out.”

This time when she fell quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop. No one seemed to be breathing. Yasha was still staring at the table, like she was only able to speak of this if she pretended they weren’t there.

“I don’t remember much of the months after that,” she continued. “I know I ran away. I know _something_ happened. I have flashes of bad things, of hurting people. But then I- I got injured, I think. Badly.” She absentmindedly touched the back of her neck. Her hair was slung over one shoulder, allowing Beau a glimpse of the implant she’d noticed earlier.

“When I woke, there was this _thing_ at the back of my neck. Maybe someone gave it to me to fix whatever was wrong with my mind, because I haven’t been forgetting anything since. I left Xhorhas after that.”

Beau wasn’t the only one who seemed to have a hard time figuring out how to respond. They all glanced at each other while Molly patted Yasha consolingly on the shoulder. She leaned into him, nearly toppling him off his chair. Jester reached across the table and squeezed her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Yasha,” she said. Yasha didn’t answer, just inclined her head, hair falling across her face.

When Fjord finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “You said you haven’t been forgetting since?”

Yasha shook her head. “I forget where I put things sometimes, or what date it is, but only small things like that. There aren’t any holes.”

“I think that’s alright, then. Anyone else have memory issues?”

“I have some patches,” said Caleb quietly. “Nothing recent, though. It’s been years. I was in a very bad place back then.”

“And you already know about my stuff,” said Molly. “Woke up in a grave two years ago, can’t remember anything before that. I’m fine now, though.”

“You didn’t mention the grave before.”

“I’m mentioning it now.”

Fjord sighed. “I feel I should mention my baggage too, since we’re all bringing up our past. Most of you already know what happened with the Tide’s Breath, yes? Awful accident, everyone dead or missing but me?”

“Never even heard about it,” said Caduceus.

“Well, anyway.” Fjord flailed a little. “I don’t actually know how I survived. I blacked out when the ship decompressed, and woke up back on Exandria. Something just… put me back on the planet. And also gave me this.” He held out his hand; in it appeared the same gun he’d used to threaten Caleb, shining dully black.

“Couldn’t exactly do magic before, either, nor did I have anything to do with space pirates,” Fjord continued, ruefully turning the ancient-looking gun over. Beau could’ve sworn the yellow eye looked at her. “So yeah, sure, it might be some alien shit. But I don’t think it is. Smells more like magic.”

“You _think_ ,” said Nott. She’d placed her crossbow on the table, bolt pointed in Fjord’s general direction. “But you don’t _know_.”

“No one knows, as Caleb so kindly made us aware of.”

“Alright.” Nott narrowed her eyes before slowly moving the crossbow away. “You’re off the hook. For _now_.”

“Appreciated.”

“Should we all talk about our past?” Jester was fidgeting, every now and then glancing at Yasha before quickly looking away again.

“If it seems relevant.” Fjord smiled weakly at her. “Anything suspicious in your past, Jester?”

“Well, I’ve never met my dad.”

“What, you think he could be an alien?” said Nott. The way her voice went up a couple notches revealed she took the question at least somewhat seriously.

“That’d be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?” Jester grinned, but there wasn’t any real joy in it. “But mama mostly just talked about how handsome he was, not whether he ate people or not.”

“I feel like we aren’t getting anywhere,” said Fjord. “How about this: did anyone here kill DeRogna?”

“Not me,” said Nott quickly. “And not Caleb either.”

“Probably,” added Caleb.

“I believe I was sleeping when she died,” said Caduceus.

“And I was locked in a cell,” said Molly. “Yasha?”

“Sleeping,” she said quietly. “In the crew quarters.”

“I was in my room that night,” said Jester. “Beau, you saw me there, right?”

“Well.” Beau grimaced. “I was kind of… hiding in an air vent. For a bit.”

Jester’s eyes widened. “You were?”

“Not to kill DeRogna! I was spying on Caleb and Essek because they were _weird_ and I didn’t _trust_ them. I was way too busy to be murdering captains.”

“And I certainly didn’t do it,” muttered Essek.

“And when I found her she was already dead.” Fjord scratched his chin. “I guess that clears all of us, unless Caleb’s cat did it.”

Caleb wrinkled his nose. “Frumpkin would never. He’s a very good boy, only ever kills rats and spiders.”

“So… it isn’t one of us?” Beau hesitantly eyed the group. Most of them looked back with similarly uncertain expressions.

“Either that, or someone managed to fool a truth spell,” said Caleb.

“Honestly, you guys,” said Jester, “Does it really even matter? DeRogna was, just, the worst, right? Like she was _awful_ , locked Molly and Nott in the brig for no reason and everything. And that other lady wanted to have Molly thrown off the ship!” She took a breath. “So even if one of us _is_ an alien, maybe it just wants friends and was trying to defend us.”

“I don’t know about that.” Caduceus looked distinctly unhappy. “Nothing against any of all of you, but this thing… distorts people. Something about it is very, very wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“It _is_ an unearthly monster from outer space that turns people into abominations,” said Fjord. “I think we can safely assume it isn’t friendly.”

Jester deflated.

“It’s kind of a moot point in any way,” Molly cut in. “It was probably whoever started the mutiny. And we’re rid of them now, so we don’t need to worry about it.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Fjord. “I mean, yeah, it’s probably one of them, but the fact that it got away probably isn’t good.”

Molly waved a hand. “Who cares? It’s someone else’s problem now.”

“Gonna be our problem if it starts an alien invasion,” said Beau drily.

“You’re paranoid. Yasha, tell her she’s paranoid.”

Yasha frowned, glancing between them. “I don’t know…”

Molly flung out his arms in dramatic exasperation. “Whoever it is, it _started out_ on Exandria; that’s where all of us boarded. If there’s an invasion, it’s already happening.”

“Unless,” said Nott, “it replaced someone at Halfway.”

“Or during the raid,” said Beau. “Point is, we don’t know where it came from, or what its plan is, and letting it get back to Exandria would probably be bad.”

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about it,” grumbled Molly. “Or are we going to follow them in a ship that’s barely moving?”

“Oh!” Jester suddenly exclaimed, practically jumping up and down. “I could scry on them.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Fjord nodded. “Just one more thing before you drop the spell.” He turned to Caleb. “Were you trying to let Essek out earlier?”

“No. I just wanted to talk. I was a little- _very_ upset, and needed something to take my mind off the chance that I might be an alien. I admit it wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”

“Alright.” Fjord nodded. “Go ahead, Jester. Uh… do you need anything?”

“Just a very holy atmosphere. Quick, tell the dirtiest joke you know to gain the Traveler’s favor.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Jester gave a put upon sigh. “We’ll just have to hope he’s in a good mood.”

The second she stopped talking, her eyes turned a cloudy, milky white. Beau could swear she saw see-through hands, tinged slightly green, on either side of her face. 

Jester was quiet for several long minutes. Then, seemingly without warning, her eyes cleared. “They’re at Halfway. Or very close. They’ll probably dock in just a few minutes.”

Beau and Fjord both swore, while Caleb got a dark look in his eyes.

“Much as I want to wash my hands of all this,” he said, “I feel we should probably do something. Halfway is something of a traveler’s hub, _ja_? This creature might use it to get onto another ship, or back to Exandria.”

“Everyone, be quiet.” Jester stuck a finger in the air as a call for attention. “I’m sending a message to the dockmaster.”

Fjord immediately scrambled to put both hands in front of himself, curled into fists. He smiled when Jester grinned at him. Apparently this was a pattern between the two of them.

“Hello,” began Jester, “dockmaster…” She stopped talking, glancing at Fjord, who’d unfolded two fingers. He shrugged at her unvoiced question. “… of Halfway. A shuttle full of murderous mutineers is coming. One is an alien, a shapeshifter. It killed our captain and ate someone’s brain. Also-”

“And that’s it.” Fjord placed his hands on the table, fingers splayed. “No more words.”

Jester quieted, nodding to herself. Then she looked up. “She said thanks. And also that we should head back for quarantine.” She frowned. “Sounded really serious about it.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” Molly shook his head vigorously. “No way am I letting them put me in a box.”

“I agree.” Jester was still frowning. “I didn’t like the way she sounded. Hey, I’m gonna scry again, okay?”

She was gone before they had a chance to stop her.

This time, her eyes stayed cloudy long enough for Beau to become restless. Then, suddenly, she paled, gave a choked shriek, and fell off her chair.

“Jes!” Beau dove to floor next to her, helping her sit up. Jester was shivering under her hands.

“They shot them,” she whispered. “Shot them right out of the sky.”

* * *

It was a solemn evening after news like that. Jester assured them the message couldn’t be tracked, not unless whoever received it had access to the spell themselves, and the dockmaster wasn’t a mage. It didn’t lighten the mood much, and they ended up deciding to keep going with the watch schedule even if the impostor was supposedly gone. Fjord asked Beau to take first with him, and she agreed, too tired to protest. At least she’d get to sleep without interruption afterwards.

The first hour or so, they spent in silence. Or as silent as it could be, in a ship that limped its way through space. The reactor had been stabilized but wasn’t technically working, and could be heard moaning and groaning throughout the corridors, lights flickered, the air didn’t circulate, and the pipes kept making unhappy noises inside the walls. Temperature control seemed to be failing as well; Beau had wrapped up in three blankets and still shivered every now and again.

The only one sleeping alone in the cold was Essek, once again in anti-magic shackles. The others lay in piles; Nott curled up against Caleb’s stomach, Frumpkin sleeping soundly on top of them; Mollymauk and Yasha face to face, legs and arms entangled; and Jester had laid claim to Caduceus, practically using him as a living blanket. He didn’t seem to mind; the two of them had been the most visibly upset after the news. Maybe it came with being a healer.

Not that Beau wasn’t shaken. It wasn’t just that people she’d been spending so much time around had been killed, it was the why and the how of it. Clearly alien impostors were more than just a story shared between spacefarers, if the Empire took it this seriously. They’d had no proof to go on, just some random stranger popping into their head with a badly worded warning. It could’ve been a sham, or a practical joke, given it was Jester sending it. But they’d listened. Not only that; they’d taken the most extreme precaution possible. This was serious.

“I bet you wouldn’t have stowed away if you knew what you were in for,” said Fjord, bringing Beau out of her spiraling thoughts. He was sitting on the floor, leaned against the headboard of a bed, and kept rubbing his hands for warmth.

“Are you kidding?” said Beau. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in my life. Could’ve done without the near death experience, though.”

“Those are kind of a given out here, I’m afraid.” Fjord studied her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone hit me over the head with a sledgehammer.” He gave her a long look. Beau rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, _captain_. Bit shaky is all.”

“I know what it’s like to go out like that, you know.” He stopped rubbing his hands and simply stared at them. “Claustrophobic and vast all at once. Makes you feel very small, being reminded how cold and uncaring the universe really is.”

Beau meant to sneer, maybe roll her eyes again, but instead found herself saying a quiet, “Yeah.” Then she snorted. “Don’t understand why you don’t hate it out here, then.”

“But it’s humbling, isn’t it? Back on Exandria you can stomp around thinking you’re the shit, but up here? Space’ll take it out of you right quick.” He breathed out slowly. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t hard, though. Being the only one to survive the Tide’s Breath, not because of my skill but because some _thing_ picked me, and then this? Completely losing the trust of half the crew in a matter of days? Knowing maybe they wouldn’t have run if I hadn’t scared them like that just because I could? That’s a whole different kind of humbling.”

“You can’t help people being idiots,” said Beau. “They were being paranoid and prejudiced way before you freaked them out.”

“Hmm.” Fjord looked up at her. “You’ve been doing really well, you know that?”

Beau straightened under her blankets. “Really?”

“Yeah. I know what it’s like being the newest member on a ship, though I admittedly wasn’t ever a stowaway.” He gave her a wry smile. “But that feeling of wanting to prove yourself; I get it.”

“I don’t need to prove myself to anyone,” protested Beau, suddenly defensive.

“Didn’t say you do, just that you’re doing well. People listen to you, and when they don’t you make them. You look at things rationally instead of letting your emotions run wild, and take responsibility for the people around you. Those are good qualities in a first mate.”

Beau squinted suspiciously at him. “Are you…”

“Am I offering you a position? Yes.”

She couldn’t help but gape. “Seriously? I’m a stowaway!”

“And probably the most responsible person left on this ship.”

Beau didn’t think she’d ever been described as “responsible” before. It was a little scary, and part of her wanted to pull away from it before she got burned.

“Here.”

She reacted just quick enough to catch the object that flew at her head. She stared at it. “This is your comm.”

“ _Was_ my comm. It’s the first mate’s. I’ll just take over DeRogna’s.”

Beau didn’t know what to say, so she just stared at the comm screen instead. Several warnings about malfunctioning ship systems blinked happily up at her.

“You’re okay with this, right?” Fjord suddenly sounded uncertain.

“Yeah man.” Beau pressed the device to her chest. “I’m just a little shocked is all.”

“Great, because I don’t think I can do this on my own any longer.” Fjord stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “What do you think, time to tap out?”

Beau waved him off to sleep and went to wake Molly and Yasha. Molly had rolled away from her at some point, and now lay on his back with his arms splayed, mouth open. Beau carefully didn’t touch him as she leaned over Yasha and shook her shoulder.

She had to duck not to get smacked in the face.

“Sorry, sorry!” Yasha was sitting up, blinking blearily. “It’s a reflex.”

Beau looked up from the floor. “No, it’s okay, I shouldn’t have woken you like that. I just wanted to talk before…” She gestured at Molly, who was drooling on his pillow. Yasha didn’t seem to take offence.

“What about?”

“I just...” Beau picked at the hem of her shirt. “I wanted to apologize.”

Yasha frowned. “Apologize?”

“For, you know.” Beau waved in a way that didn’t actually mean anything. “The flirting, the comments, the staring. You never flirted back so I should’ve gotten the picture, shouldn’t have kept it up ‘til I found out-” She stopped talking. Maybe bringing up dead wives wasn’t the way to apologize. “Anyway, sorry,” she finished.

“That’s alright,” said Yasha. “I never really… it didn’t bother me.”

“Oh.” Beau blinked.

“I never really care what people say.”

“Ah.” Beau cleared her throat. “Also, did I ever thank you for saving my life? ‘cus, you know, thanks. For that.”

“Well, you _did_ save me first, so I’d say we’re even.”

“Eh.” Beau tipped a hand from side to side. “You didn’t actually need saving. Like, you woke up almost right away and then had to save _me_ because I didn’t think at all.” She laughed. “Not that I ever do.” 

“Don’t do that,” said Yasha softly.

“Do what? Joke? You don’t like my jokes?” The thought was surprisingly devastating. If it was someone else telling her she had a bad sense of humor she’d simply tell them to fuck off, but with Yasha she couldn’t do that, for some reason.

“Talk down about yourself. You’re very good at what you do, and I’m glad you saved me. I was panicking, and don’t know if I would’ve been able to find my way back alone. You’re very brave.”

Beau’s face went inexplicably hot. “Well, I don’t know,” she said, feeling like her tongue had tied itself in a knot. Fuck, what’d happened to her usual, effortless flirting? _I know_ exactly _how good I am, thank you very much. Want to come to my room for a demonstration_? 

It was that damn earnestness. Yasha wasn’t flirting or flattering; she was just being honest. Besides, Beau couldn’t flirt with her anymore, anyway. Not after today’s revelations. Even she wasn’t that crass.

“ _I_ know.” Yasha nodded decisively. “You try very hard to convince yourself you’re a bad person, but you’re not. A bit of an asshole, yeah, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes people need someone who doesn’t spare their feelings.” She smiled, the smallest curl at the corner of her lips. Beau wanted to reach up and touch it.

“We should wake up Molly,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back and squeezing the fingers of one hand with the other.

“No need.” Molly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “You two are loud.”

Beau hit him in the face with a pillow, then stomped over and lay down to sleep next to Jester, Caduceus and Fjord, Yasha’s smile still playing in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I urge you to read that zone of truth scene with care.
> 
> Next chapter will be a special bonus from Essek's point of view!


	6. Aggressively friendly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek tries to make a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special bonus chapter time! 
> 
> Quick update this time since I've been working on this chapter in parallel with the others. It wasn't part of my plan when I first outlined this fic, but I was unable to stop myself from wanting to explore Essek's relationship with the rest of the mighty nein. There will be a special bonus chapter from Yasha's point of view later on.
> 
> There's been some discussion in the comments on whether the caster is exempt from their own Zone of Truth (which admittedly never occurred to me while writing). For my own peace of mind, the caster is not exempt from Zone of Truth in this fic (though they could still resist without anyone knowing if they were willing to risk it). Sorry for any confusion!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and support so far! It makes the whole writing process so much more fun! I love reading your theories on who is secretly a murderous alien monster (it's definitely Frumpkin).

1.  
Essek was not a mechanic. He was, technically, an engineer; it was the sort of title they liked slapping on people who’d studied the practical applications of dunamancy. This was just about enough for him to be able stabilize the reactor. He could not, no matter how much the surviving crew asked it of him, “fix” it.

They did not believe him.

This was why Essek ended up spending day out and day in buried to his elbows in spare parts and manuals, while the others took turns watching over him. It was, if anything, humiliating.

“Would you look at that!” Mollymauk exclaimed. Essek reluctantly turned from the reactor, glancing down at him. The tiefling was sitting on the floor, garish coat spread out in front of him like a blanket. In the middle of it he’d placed a tarot card. He looked up at Essek, eyes wide. “The cards say you’re a dick.”

“Fascinating.”

“Don’t really need to be psychic to tell that, though; having eyes is plenty enough.” Molly picked up the card, did something with his fingers and made it vanish in thin air. “Want me to give you a real reading? Maybe it could help you get over the multitude of issues you clearly have.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“You really aren’t much fun, you know that?” Mollymauk leaned back on his hands. “Come on, talking about things is good for you. It’ll ease up on your stress.”

“Not wearing handcuffs would ease up on my stress.”

Not that they were proper handcuffs; they were more like bracelets, really. Fjord’d used a pair of regular anti-magic shackles and cut the chain to allow Essek the use of his hands while working. He’d tried explaining that he couldn’t be expected to do any kind of repairs without his magic, but they wouldn’t budge. Apparently he was “murderous” and “untrustworthy” and “a spy.” Essek didn’t think of himself as a spy. A spy needed to have an allegiance.

“Now see, I can’t do anything about that,” said Mollymauk. “Wouldn’t you like talking with me, though? I’m your friend, after all.”

Would he? Maybe he would. Mollymauk was his friend, was-

He slapped a hand to his temple hard enough to sting. “ _Stop that_.”

The alien presence that’d snuck into his mind almost without Essek noticing dissipated, leaving him with the horrifying awareness that he’d almost fallen for the same trick twice.

He bared his teeth, practically snarling. “Stay out of my head.”

Mollymauk bared his teeth back, halfway grin, halfway snarl. “But it’s so much _fun_.”

This was infuriating. Essek would’ve been able to take this man with one hand tied behind his back, but both of them was pushing it.

“I really am serious, though,” said Mollymauk, ignoring Essek’s quiet fuming. “You should let us know about whatever mess you’re in. Maybe we could help.”

“I’m not in _a mess_.”

“Sure you aren’t. That must be why you’re secretly working for two separate nations while clearly not giving a shit about either of them. You realize that’s going to leave you with none of the allies and twice the enemies once the truth inevitably gets out, right?”

“I’ve been doing just fine so far, thank you.”

“Have you now?” Mollymauk raised his eyebrows, and fair enough; Essek was man enough to admit he could currently be doing a lot better.

“Hey, want to know a secret?” said Mollymauk.

“Not particularly.”

Mollymauk leaned forward but didn’t lower his voice. “I don’t give a shit either. Not about the Empire, not about the Dynasty, not about whatever weird rivalry they’ve got going on. Once I get back on the ground I’m heading as far as possible away from whatever impending doom they’re cooking up.”

“War, probably,” muttered Essek.

“See? That’s exactly the kind of mess I want nothing to do with.” Mollymauk cocked his head to the side. “Wanna come with?”

Essek nearly dropped the tool he was holding. “I- what?”

“I’m kind of trying to get a group together. Yasha has a tendency to wander off whenever she’s not locked in a spaceship, and I don’t exactly have the circus anymore. Gets boring quickly, being on your own. You’re good in a fight, and honestly really funny to poke at. Not to mention easy on the eye.” Mollymauk winked; Essek felt the urge to cover himself, even dressed as he was in his increasingly filthy robe. “I could overlook the less savory parts if you pinky promise not to try and kill me anytime soon.”

“I don’t know what kind of impression I’ve given you, _mister Tealeaf_ , but I’m not the type to head off as some kind of- of- I’m not even sure what you’re suggesting. A mercenary group?”

Mollymauk shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out, once I get the people together. Maybe we could start another circus.”

“I’m not going to join a circus. I’m a _scientist_.”

“You sure? I think you’d make a pretty good clown.”

Essek turned back to his work.

* * *

2.  
He didn’t realize until later that turning down Mollymauk’s overtures had perhaps been thoughtless. He needed to have people on his side, people he could use to get out of all of this when an opportunity presented itself.

The obvious choice to start with was Yasha; she was the only one who, like him, hailed from Xhorhas. He vaguely recognized her tattoo and face paint as that of a tribe from somewhere near the outskirts of the Dynasty, about as far as you could get from Rosohona in terms of both distance and culture without leaving the country. Even so, he still hoped they might find common ground.

That hope died when he watched her catch and eat a live spider.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Yasha when she noticed him staring. “Did you want some?”

He wanted to think she was being sarcastic. He did not think she was.

“No,” he said. Yasha shrugged and went back to paging through a book that, based on the mostly naked people on the cover, must’ve belonged to Jester.

He worked in silence for a while, before grinding his teeth and turning back to her. He could not, in his position, afford to lose a potential ally due to something as trivial as squeamishness.

“Is that a custom among your people? Eating insects, I mean?”

It was meant as a friendly question, a way to get her to open up a little, but he realized as he said it that it might’ve sounded a tad… judgmental. Luxon knew small talk wasn’t his strong suit; much as he hated court life he’d still always been better at its intrigues and machinations than he was at simply _talking_ to people. But Yasha didn’t strike him as the sort of person who’d respond well to the quiet jabs and manipulations of the court, which left _befriending_ her as the only viable way of winning her favor. Essek considered simply giving up in advance.

“I suppose,” said Yasha. She didn’t appear angry or hurt, at least, which was a relief. “We didn’t have much food where I’m from, so we had to eat what we could get. Insects, rats, giant spiders.”

Essek tried to figure out if she was making fun of him. Again, he didn’t think she was.

“That sounds… unique,” he said diplomatically.

Yasha nodded vigorously. “Oh, it’s really good actually. You need to cook it right, of course, or it’ll make you sick, but I miss it a lot. Everything in the Empire is so _soft_ in comparison.”

Essek remembered the way the spider had crunched when she ate it and admitted she was probably correct. He also admitted that he needed to change the subject before he threw up.

“Your marking,” he said, tapping his chin to indicate her tattoo. “Does it mean anything?”

Yasha lightly ran a finger over the tattoo, as if expecting it to bite her. “Rite of passage,” she said, “to be counted as an adult in my tribe.”

Essek weighed his options and decided to take a risk. “Do you miss it? Them?”

“Sometimes. It was… less complicated. The most important thing was always survival.”

“It usually is.”

Yasha shook her head. “Not in the same way. There, it all came down to strength. There was no…” She gestured vaguely. “…trickiness. What you saw was what you got. Here, everyone is always hiding something, and think they can cut you down using words.” She snorted, as if she found the idea especially funny.

“I see.” Essek nodded. “This group must be chaotic, in comparison.”

“Oh, very.” A small smile. “But I lived with Molly and the circus for a few years; most people seem normal, after that.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” said Essek, and then caught himself, realizing he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Conversing with someone who wore their heart on their sleeve was making him careless.

“Do what?” asked Yasha.

Essek cleared his throat, looking for a way out. “Just… these people. Being with them.”

To his surprise, she looked almost sympathetic. “Has Jester been bothering you? Or Molly, perhaps? They can be a bit intense.”

Essek looked away, muttering that _no, no, of course not, everything was just fine, why would she even ask that_ , and it all kind of melted into one big, incomprehensible mumble. Yasha’s lips twitched.

“I was alone, for some time, after I left Xhorhas,” she said, saving him from having to give a real answer. “And I was alone a lot while with the circus, too. If I stayed for more than a few weeks it started weighing on me, just… all the people. So I’d leave for a while, thinking that was it, but I always ended up going back.”

“Why?” asked Essek, even if he didn’t really like where this conversation was going.

“I’m not sure. It’s hard, being around people. You get attached to them, whether you want to or not. Once that has happened, loneliness stings more, and if you end up losing them…” A shrug. “It seems easier not to get attached to begin with. But I did, and so I always went back.”

“Like an addiction,” said Essek, unable to entirely hide his sneer.

“In a sense, I guess.” She tilted her head, eyeing him. Essek had heard some races found pale drow irises unnerving; now, stared down by Yasha’s almost unnaturally-colored eyes, he could suddenly relate. “There’s a lot of pain in this group, Thelyss.”

The use of his Den name made him stiffen. He doubted she knew about Dens, being from the wilds as she was, but hearing it spoken reminded him of Rosohna, of the court, of the petty ways nobles would use your connections – or lack thereof – to sneer at you. He’d done it himself; called someone by their – lesser than his, of course – Den name, to make sure they knew that he knew who had the bigger power. If he for even a moment let them forget who and what he was, they’d find a way to oust him; he was but a child to many of them, after all, and a competitor to the rest. A prodigy, true, but yet to be consecuted, yet to truly prove his worthiness.

“I think they’d let you in, if you allowed them,” continued Yasha, her softness a complete opposite to the way his name was ordinarily used. He stared at her for a bit, unable to say much of anything, before turning away.

He’d never expected to convince her to ally with him, anyway.

* * *

3.  
“You look way better like this.”

The words made Essek stiffen. He forced his voice to remain even as he answered. “Pardon?”

“It’s the colors,” said Jester, happily ignoring his clenched teeth and narrowed eyes, fingers gripping for magic he couldn’t use. “You were super-hot before too, don’t get me wrong, but your clothes made you look all _pale_ and _sickly_.” She gestured at his face. “They suit your natural coloring much better.”

Essek chewed over her words. Deeply ingrained habit made him want to comb through them, search for the insult hidden under the compliment, but he didn’t really need to, did he? ‘Pale’ and ‘sickly’ wasn’t what one would deem a subtle jab, even outside the court. But Jester smiled at him, open and earnest, and furrowed her brow when he only stared back.

“I’m sorry, was that mean? Did you work really hard on the disguise? It really was very good! You should just pick an outfit that suits it instead of going with your regular stuff.”

It was… not bad advice, actually. While Essek certainly wasn’t a slob, he also preferred to place his focus on things other than his attire. He knew everything in his wardrobe fit him, and thus rarely bothered acquiring new garments or picking carefully between the ones he had. It hadn’t occurred to him that his usual clothing wouldn’t work as well with the lighter coloring of his disguised self.

“I will… keep that in mind,” he said, reluctantly. Jester beamed at him.

“I can help you,” she offered.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll manage.”

She pouted. Then she frowned again, looking down at Essek’s hands; he’d been absentmindedly rubbing at his wrist.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

She didn’t listen, bouncing from her seat and bounding over. Essek wanted to hide his hands in his sleeves. Admitting to injury was admitting to weakness, and people ‘caring’ about it were either looking for something to use or something to mock him for. But he wasn’t quick enough, and Jester already held his lower arms in a slightly too hard grip. She sucked in a breath.

“Essek, you should’ve said something!”

His wrists were rubbed raw, in some places broken through and bleeding. To his surprise, Jester eased her grip and mumbled something under her breath. His wrists itched as they healed. 

Not looking for weakness or something to needle him over, then. Perhaps what she was after was a favor of some kind, or merely to get him on her side in case he ever got out of these cuffs and became an active threat again. He could find a way to use that.

“Here, this should help.” She pulled ribbons and handkerchiefs from her pink bag. Essek watched in quiet astonishment as she started wrapping them around his shackles as padding. When she was done, she patted him on the head and went back to her seat. Still she asked for no boons. Instead, she went on chattering happily about outfits and sketching in her book.

As she talked, Essek turned away and discreetly grabbed a tool off a nearby shelf. He didn’t even glance to see exactly what it was; anything long and thin should do. Picking locks wasn’t something he’d ever tried, but he was sure he could manage. He hid it in his loose sleeve as he pulled back, then carefully slipped it in a pocket.

Behind him, there was a soft swoosh of air. He was about to turn and see what it was – was the ventilation working properly again? – when a hole in reality opened up in front of him and Jester stepped through. Essek just barely managed not to yelp in surprise. Barely. It’s very possible he gasped a little.

“Essek,” Jester said, sounding almost admonishing. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m letting you take liberties.”

She stepped closer, right into his space. Essek tried to back-pedal but there was a wall right behind him, cold and unforgiving. Jester tilted her head back to look up at him, still smiling. Essek gulped.

She slipped her hand into his pocket and brought out the tool. Held it up between them. It was a screwdriver.

“I’ll just take this, okay?” Her smile widened enough to show off her tiny fangs. “And you can get back to work. I promise I won’t even tell anyone.”

She turned, finally moving out of his space. Essek breathed out. Standing there, trying not to appear shaken, he came to the conclusion that no, she wasn’t trying to get him on her side in case he ever got loose. Clearly she wasn’t scared of him. And yet she wasn’t asking for anything, not for his magic or his insight into the Dynasty or for the contacts he held. She was just… being nice. _Befriending_ him.

“Of course, you’ll have to give me something in return.” 

Jester hopped up on a workbench and made herself comfortable before bringing her sketchbook back out.

Essek very carefully adjusted his robe. Perhaps he’d misjudged her after all, and she really was just after something. It made him feel strangely relieved; at least he knew how to handle scheming and manipulation.

“Like what?” he said slowly. 

Something sly entered into Jester’s face. “Smile,” she said. “I want to draw you.”

As it turned out, Jester was in fact a very skilled artist. Though the portrait would’ve admittedly looked more realistic if she hadn’t drawn him shirtless.

* * *

4.  
If Jester was earnestly kind in a way rarely shown in court, the monk was earnestly _rude_ in a manner that simply wouldn’t have been tolerated. It was all about subtle jabs, there; no one would be so crass as to call you an “utter dick” to your face. Beauregard said it within the first five minutes of their shift. She followed up by insulting his lack of upper-body strength.

“Have you done, like, a single push-up in your life?”

“Push-ups aren’t required in my line of work.”

“If they were maybe I wouldn’t have been able to deck you in less than five seconds.”

He didn’t want to encourage her heckling by arguing, but the insult surprisingly stung quite a lot. “You caught me by surprise.”

“Sure.”

“You _dropped_ out of the _ceiling_.”

“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the sort of thing spies do?”

Essek had to take a breath.

“You know what your problem is?” she continued when he didn’t say anything. “Hubris. It’s a wizard thing, I think. Always think you’re better than everybody else.”

“I don’t-”

“Bet you didn’t think a human would be able to knock you out. One without magic, too.”

It was embarrassingly true. Having her completely blindside him had been nearly as bad for his pride as realizing Mollymauk of all people had charmed him.

“I feel the need to mention,” he said, voice stiff, “that being ‘the best’ is, in fact, in my line of work.”

“Oh my gods.” Beau rolled her eyes. “You can’t even pretend to be humble. You got caught. Admit it to yourself, at least.”

Essek pursed his lips and said nothing.

“Not that I don’t get it. Expectations, pressure, blah-blah.” She leaned forward, fingertips pressed to fingertips in front of her face. “Let me guess, parents had really specific ideas about what they wanted you to be like, yeah?”

He glanced at her. Still said nothing. Beau grinned.

“So you spent your entire life trying to live up to them, but you never could even if you were ‘the best’” - she made finger quotes - “because whatever they wanted was completely unrealistic to begin with, and now you resent yourself both for failing and for even trying to begin with, and pretend you’re only angry with them and not with yourself. Come on, am I close?”

“I think it sounds like you’re speaking from experience, Beauregard.”

The grin fell and she sneered at him. “At least I never went and double-crossed two entire countries at once.”

“I hold no loyalties to neither the Dynasty nor your Empire.”

“What about the people, though? Relations are already pretty bad, and if you fuck them up enough to start a war then a lot of people are going to die.”

“If there’s going to be a war, then there’s going to be a war, my involvement notwithstanding.”

“See, that’s what’s called an excuse. ‘Oh, I’m not _actually_ ruining things for everyone else, shit was already bad, it isn’t _my_ fault people are suffering.’”

“Again, sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Fuck you, man.”

She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and sulked. Essek cherished the silence.

* * *

5.  
“Tea?”

Caduceus held up a thermos.

“No thanks.”

“You sure? It’s cold down here.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Caduceus shrugged and filled his cup. Essek watched him from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure how to approach him; with the others he’d attempted to push at what they wanted, what their motives were, but he didn’t know much about Caduceus. He liked tea. He was a good chef, but never made any meat. That’s about as far as Essek’s observations went.

“I’ve been wondering about you,” he said as he worked.

“Oh?” Caduceus sipped his tea, looking unperturbed. Essek went on.

“You are, as far as I can tell, a very skilled cleric. Those don’t generally go for the sort of work position you’ve had on this ship.”

“Well, perhaps the clerics you’ve met should reprioritize.”

Essek very nearly laughed. Most of the clerics he’d met had been serving the Luxon, and Essek couldn’t agree more about their misplaced priorities. “True,” he said. “But they still usually act with a larger sense of purpose. To their god, I presume. You don’t have that?”

“Oh, sure I do. I’m on a quest, actually.”

Essek raised his brows. “As a chef?”

“Well, I do hope to learn some new recipes along the way. I was a little bit isolated in my youth. Lots of family recipes, not much innovation. Not outside of tea, at least.”

“But that’s not the ultimate goal?”

“No, not at all.”

Essek stifled a sigh. Getting relevant information out of Caduceus was proving harder than getting scientific facts from a beacon. “Maybe I could help?” he tried. “Getting stuck up here must’ve been quite the snag for you.”

“Perhaps." Caduceus glanced up at him over the brim of his teacup. "I know what you’re doing, by the way.” 

Essek stiffened. “I’m repairing the-”

“Oh, that I know nothing about. Practically undercommon to me. No, I’m talking about you trying to win my trust.” Caduceus refilled his cup. Sipped. “You’re not very subtle.”

Essek’s cheeks heated. He felt like a scolded child.

“You’re going about it all wrong, if you’re wondering,” Caduceus continued as Essek stood there being unsubtle. “Trust can’t be bought. It grows with time, if given the right conditions. I think maybe yours is a little malnourished.”

“My ability to trust is perfectly fine,” Essek snapped.

“I’m sure. Only a fool would let something so important wither.”

Essek tried his best not to visibly fume. Caduceus blew on his tea.

* * *

6.  
Nott spent her watch aiming a crossbow at him.

“You really needn’t do that,” Essek tried, but she just narrowed her eyes and moved her finger closer to the trigger.

“I wouldn’t hesitate,” she said. “Would kill you right here if we didn’t need you to fix the ship.” 

“I did save your friend’s life, you know. There’s no reason to see me as a threat.”

She sneered. “I don’t see you as a threat; you’re even scrawnier than Caleb, and can’t even do magic right now. I just don’t like you. Also” - she raised her crossbow a fraction higher - “you tried to kill him before you saved him. Completely betrayed his trust.”

Ah. So that’s where the problem lay.

“I wouldn’t say there was any trust between us to begin with,” Essek said, hoping to appease her. It didn’t work.

“You’re the first wizard he’s even looked at in ages. Usually when we come across one of your people, he wants to run as far away as he can right away. Even wanting to learn more about magic wasn’t enough to make him stick around with any of them.”

Essek hadn’t quite expected that. Caleb’d been quiet and suspicious when they first met, sure, but had opened up quick enough once they started talking theories and magic. Now that he thought about it, Essek realized he probably hadn’t had anyone to talk with about those sort of things in a long while. No wonder he’d been so excited about simple spell talk.

“And then he actually _liked_ you, and _talked_ to you, and you had to go and ruin it,” continued Nott. “Awful, just absolutely awful. I’m going to shoot you when this is all over.”

“He doesn’t have many friends, then? Outside of you?”

“Caleb has plenty of friends,” Nott protested. “You’re just projecting.”

“I’m not-” Essek stopped talking. Took a breath. Kept going. “He mentioned you two met in a jail cell. He must’ve been quite trusting, seeing as he decided to help you out despite you being-” He gestured at her; her green skin and sharp teeth and large, floppy ears. “Goblins aren’t very liked in the Empire, I’ve heard.”

“Of course he trusts me,” snapped Nott. “Not that he’d be wrong not to. Goblins are awful, just terrible.”

Essek blinked. “You think so?”

“Terrible little thieves and murderers.”

“Huh,” said Essek, unable to completely hide his surprise. Those were the sort of views he’d expect to hear from a human of the Empire, not a goblin. Sure, goblins tended towards impulsivity and bursts of emotion, not to mention a somewhat _liberal_ view of personal ownership, but they were no more evil than drow or tieflings. No surprise then that those races weren’t very well liked in the Empire, either. He’d heard goblins there were forced into such harsh living conditions they had to resort to desperate measures just to survive. No wonder Nott’d come aboard posing as a halfling.

Perhaps the disdain for her own kind was just a self-defense mechanism evolved from constantly being around those who hated her. If he was lucky, offering her a better option would be enough to get her on his side.

“That’s not quite how we see your people in the Dynasty,” he said. “They’re well-respected members of society.”

Nott shot him a dirty look. “Don’t call them that.”

“Call them what?”

“‘My people.’ They’re not my people. I want nothing to do with them.”

Not self-defense, then; more like deep-rooted self-hatred. Essek didn’t think he had the therapeutic skills to help her through something like that. Didn’t think she’d let him either, judging by the way she was still aiming her crossbow at him. Perhaps he’d be better off looking for allies elsewhere. 

“You should consider visiting Xhorhas sometime,” he couldn’t help saying. “You might find it enlightening.” Something occurred to him, and he quickly amended, “Be careful if Widogast comes with, though; humans aren’t very well liked there.”

“Clearly an awful country, Caleb should be welcomed everywhere.” Nott gestured with her crossbow. “Get back to work.”

* * *

7.  
The group gave up on sleeping in shifts and keeping watch after about a week, leaving Essek in a uniquely advantageous situation. No one present seemed aware of, or inclined to care about, that elves didn’t actually need to sleep, and Essek saw no reason to inform them. Instead he’d lay down and drift off in his usual trance, staying semi-aware of the goings on around him. Waiting.

It didn’t take long for this to pay off.

The half-orc was a restless sleeper. Essek had already noticed the way he’d toss and turn through the night, but it wasn’t until one of his clearly unpleasant dreams woke him up that the actually interesting things started happening.

He woke gasping for air, and had, by the time he got his breath back, started muttering to himself. Mostly swearing and the occasional “what’s going on” and “what do you want”, which was interesting in and of itself, but not what mainly caught Essek’s attention.

The acting captain was faking an accent.

In normal circumstances, Essek would’ve seen no reason to care. He had more important things to worry about than some stranger pretending to be someone he wasn’t. But these circumstances were hardly normal. Essek did not believe the so-called “impostor” was gone. It was possible this was less based on facts, and more on wishful thinking; he still badly needed an ally.

And who was more likely to be an impostor than the man who talked with another voice when he thought no one was listening, who was the first to find the murdered captain, who was sought after by pirates? Not to mention that he’d gotten the half of the crew that mistrusted him killed off by scaring them into fleeing right into an ambush. By now he had everyone still left on the ship wrapped around his little finger.

Everyone but Essek.

He waited until they were alone together, Fjord taking his shift in guarding Essek as he worked in the engine room.

“I must admit you are of more use in here than most of the others,” said Essek. It was a clumsy attempt at starting a conversation, but true nonetheless; Fjord actually knew how to do basic repairs, and wasn’t scared to get his hands dirty.

“I used to be a mechanic, back on the last ship I served on.”

“And this was the ship that blew up?”

“See, I understand how that sounds bad.” Fjord laughed nervously and scratched at the back of his neck. “But it was sabotage. Someone – I’m pretty sure of who it was, too – planted bombs.”

“Oh?” Essek turned away from the reactor and leaned against it instead. “It’s just such a funny coincidence. Only one survivor, who managed to get back to solid ground in a seemingly impossible manner, suddenly gifted with abilities he’d never shown before, granted to him by something unearthly. And who then went on to work for a highly important political figure, only to see her killed by something unearthly in a matter of days. An interesting quirk of fate.”

Fjord had stopped working while Essek talked, and now slowly stood up from where he’d been crouched. “I’m sorry, are you insinuating something?”

“I would say I’m doing a bit more than that. They’ll figure it out eventually, you know. If not these people, then the Empire; they’re not much for the foreign, much less the alien. I believe you and I both would be interested in staying off their radar.”

“I’m sorry,” said Fjord again, but now he laughed. Essek did not like that at all. “Are you trying to broker an alliance with an alien? That’s your plan?”

“I’m not in what one would call an advantageous situation. I’ll take my allies where I can find them.”

“Hmm.” Fjord nodded. Took a step closer. “You know, it occurs to me that you’ve never seen this thing. Haven’t seen its victims, either.” Another step. “Would you like me to show you what you’re trying to play friendly with?”

Essek’s mouth had gone dry. Fjord wasn’t very big compared to a full-blooded orc – was pretty small for a half-orc, even – but he still outweighed Essek by a significant margin. Having him draw nearer like this, looking down at Essek with that sort of expression, was… unpleasant.

“And how would you do that, exactly?”

Fjord smiled. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

Then he mumbled something, wet, slithery words that made Essek’s skin crawl, and summoned an illusion.

At least Essek believed it to be an illusion. He didn’t feel like going up and poking it to make sure.

It was DeRogna. Or DeRogna’s corpse, to be more precise. Mutilated and gored, ripped off pieces spread all around it. Essek could not quite imagine what kind of creature could cause damage like that.

“Pretty nasty, huh?” said Fjord, as the image of a corpse started to move.

New limbs grew out; some thin and multi-jointed like those of a spider, others long and slithery tendrils and tentacles. They pushed their way out of the torso like something was hiding inside, trying to get out, bursting skin and muscle on the way. The body started pulling itself along the floor, leaving a slimy trail of viscera behind it. Then it staggered upright, head wobbling on a long and twisted neck, leg dragging and arms splitting into multiple limbs. Flesh split from collarbone to hip and yawned open, revealing not bones and organs but rows of large, uneven teeth, and round, yellow eyes opened all over what was left of it, zeroing in on Essek.

Essek had been trying very hard not to move, and was proud that he managed to keep from jumping when Fjord put a hand on his shoulder. In fact, he did not think he’d have been able to move even if he’d wanted to. All their talk about unearthly abominations suddenly made a lot more sense.

“How about you don’t bring this up again?” said Fjord, squeezing Essek’s shoulder.

Essek did not ask a second time.

* * *

8.  
Working alongside Caleb Widogast was bittersweet, in a way.

Essek had worked with other mages before, back in Rosohna, but it was never like this. The consecuted treated him like a child, either congratulating him for the simplest cantrip or dismissing anything he attempted out of hand. Other newsouls, meanwhile, were just as cutthroat as Essek himself, constantly competing for a spot at the Bright Queen’s side.

Caleb wasn’t like that. Sure, he still absorbed any crumb of information Essek offered with an almost obsessive hunger, but there was no sense of competitiveness to it. In fact, he seemed to have no aspirations whatsoever about climbing the social ladder, instead seemingly taking comfort in being able to hide behind normalcy. He searched and he learned and he hungered for knowledge purely for the sake of the knowledge itself, never to prove anything.

It was, in a sense, what Essek had always wanted. To be able to study without the pretense, without the risk of backstabbing. But he’d never had the guts to forsake his social standing and strike out on his own, instead taking an almost perverse pride in what he’d achieved. Shadowhand at the Bright Queen’s side, and at such a young age, too. It was enough for even some of the consecuted to give him respectful nods when they passed in the palace hallways. 

And besides, his resources wouldn’t have been any better outside of the court. Watching Caleb as he’d had, even early on, it was clear there were consequences to removing yourself from the system; the way he counted every coin, wore clothes that were falling apart at the seams, watched everyone around him with a suspicion and calculation Essek was familiar with. He might be bound by no court, but he was no more free to pursue his studies in full than Essek.

He liked to think maybe they’d have been friends, had they met in Rosohna. Or perhaps he would’ve hated Caleb for achieving what he had without the backing of neither Den nor court. Maybe he would’ve disdained him for disregarding the social standing Essek had worked so hard for, seen him as lesser for not even trying. 

But, perhaps, if things were… softer. No expectations, no outside pressure, no worries about backstabbing or narrow-minded people stopping their research. Just the freedom to help each other learn. Maybe then, in a whole other world, they could’ve been something other than rivals at best and enemies at worst.

But it didn’t matter what they could’ve been, had they met elsewhere. They’d met right here, on this blasted ship. Caleb might not play the games of the Dens, but Essek still knew when someone was trying to pull his strings. No matter how easy their conversations felt, there was always that undercurrent of manipulation. Essek wanted someone to get him off this ship, alive and without his cover blown any wider than it already was. Caleb wanted to know the things Essek had to teach without letting his Empire burn in the process. 

Neither of them could ever know what was real, and what was the subtle push and pull of those who knew each other as enemies, and tried to pretend to forget.

Yet, in little moments of weakness, Essek found himself slipping. He told of the beacons, of consecution, of dunamancy, little things that Caleb wanted to know so very much, and he did it simply to see that gleam of learning in his eyes. And then Caleb would push a little more; would touch Essek’s arm, or ask a coaxing question, and Essek would be reminded that they weren’t friends, weren’t even scholars exchanging ideas. He’d pull back, and Caleb would pull back, something like shame showing on his face for just an instant.

It was ugly. It was a funhouse mirror of something Essek hadn’t even known he’d wanted, mocking him by holding it just out of reach.

He’d think, sometimes, of what Jester had said, that time in the brig. _Were you really going to kill Caleb, or were you just going to kiss him on the mouth and make him fall hopelessly in love with you so you could run away together?_

It was a silly question. Essek had never wished more for Modify Memory than that night in the lab, Caleb frozen in front of him, helpless, but he hadn’t had it prepared. He’d meant to kill Caleb that night. Because he had to. Because he needed to remind himself of why he should never, ever, let people close.

But he’d failed. Caleb was alive, and Essek was caught, and maybe, possibly, everything he’d ever worked on was going to fall apart. And part of him was relieved. Part of him was so sick of the games and the hiding and double plays. Part of him remembered Jester saying _run away together_ and thought, _maybe_.


	7. There was only one cuddle pile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I see your "there was only one bed" and raise you "there was only one cuddle pile".

“Caleb. Hey, hey Cay-leb.”

“ _Ja_ , Jester?”

“I’m bored.”

Caleb glanced up from the microscope. Jester was sitting on the counter a few paces away, something looking distinctly like a dick carved into the countertop by her left knee. She’d started out pestering Beauregard, who was hunched over a data terminal in the other end of the lab, but she was too engrossed in whatever she was reading to be distracted, no matter the constant stream of dick related jokes. Thus, Jester had swiftly migrated to Caleb and Veth’s corner of the room.

Now she was kicking her feet, glass vials and beakers clinking and wobbling precariously around her. Caleb absentmindedly reached for a vial and moved it away from the edge. Veth had been mixing something in it earlier; he thought it was maybe acid. Brilliance aside, she wasn’t very concerned about proper lab safety protocols, such as “labeling” or “lids”.

“You are a menace,” he said, and Jester grinned.

“Have you found anything out yet?

He glanced back down at the microscope. A tiny drop of blood, harvested from what little was left of DeRogna after she was finally tossed out the airlock, rested beneath the lenses. Caleb had been staring at it for what felt like hours, but what he knew was only thirty-seven minutes and fifty-three seconds.

“Not much that we did not already suspect.”

“Yeah?” Jester leaned forward, squinting at the microscope as if expecting to be able to see the microscopic reaction with the naked eye. “How so?”

“Well, I tried to, ah, feed it, for a lack of a better word, some of my own blood. To see what would happen.”

“I told him not to,” Veth said, bent over her alchemy set and a half dozen crossbow bolts. She was, presently, attempting to attach a flash grenade to one of them. “It might develop a taste.”

“So what happened?” said Jester. She’d been hanging around the lab ever since Caleb and Beau started working on finding some answers earlier that day, quizzing them on their progress every now then. Her creative suggestions and questions had been more helpful than Caleb had expected.

“Same thing that was happening to DeRogna, I presume,” he said. “It absorbed it, but when I tested it afterwards, it was all my DNA. It’s like the sample of her blood was never even there.”

Jester’s eyes widened. “No way. That’s super freaky.”

“Quite, _ja_.”

Truth be told, Caleb had been relieved at the result. There was no way to know for sure, but he suspected he wouldn’t have gotten this reaction out of the sample if he’d already been contaminated. The alien DNA wouldn’t have any reason to attack itself. Presumably. Unfortunately, it also meant they wouldn’t be able to test for alien impostors using blood samples.

“That means it really can infect living people, then, right?” Jester asked.

“Probably, but it’s possible it’d be overwhelmed by the body’s immune system before it got very far. I cannot know without actually testing it on a live subject, and, well.” Caleb shrugged. “I do not exactly have any volunteers.”

“You could use Essek,” said Beau, clearly having listened more than she gave the appearance of.

“Beau,” said Jester admonishingly.

“No, I agree with her,” said Veth. “Tell me more about this plan, Beau.”

“It might be inadvisable,” muttered Caleb. “He is the only one keeping the ship afloat, at the moment.”

Beau rolled her eyes. “Relax, I’m not actually going to infect him with alien gunk. He’s annoying enough without trying to eat people.”

Caleb gave up on getting any more work done and turned fully towards the girls. “Have you made any progress with your research, Beauregard?”

Fjord had given her the same access codes he had, which she in turn had quickly expanded on by hacking her way into DeRogna’s private account. She’d been practically glued to the screen all day.

“A little bit, yeah,” she said, pushing back from the data terminal, wheeled chair rolling across the tiled floor. She was sitting perched with both feet on the seat. “As far as I can tell Vess wasn’t out here to study them specifically, but there _are_ some files on them in here. It says that once the _absorption process_ ” - she grimaced at the phrase - “is finished, there isn’t really any way to physically tell the difference. So it isn’t, like, shapeshifting. If one of these things were to eat me, it wouldn’t just look human, it would _be_ human. But, like, a human that can explode into tentacles and teeth at any given moment.” She shrugged.

“So it could have kids, then?” asked Jester. “Like, real human babies? Or would they be alien babies?”

Beau squinted thoughtfully and gave another shrug.

“Could you imagine though?” said Veth. “One day your child just starts growing tentacles and a bunch of extra teeth.”

Jester grinned. “And then your partner has to be like, ‘oh sorry honey, forgot to tell you, I’m actually an alien, and we’re gonna have to feed our child brains.’”

“Anything about how to deal with them?” said Caleb, trying to get them back on track.

“It suggests Zone of Truth, actually,” said Beau. “So at least we know they aren’t immune. But they do inherit both their victim’s and the original alien’s memories, so you have to be careful about what you ask.”

“And once you catch them?”

“It says to kill them with extreme measure.”

The room got very quiet. Eventually, Jester spoke up.

“Maybe we could try Greater Restoration? Because if it is one of us, then clearly this ‘absorption process’” - she made finger quotes - “isn’t finished yet, or it wouldn’t have been able to say it wasn’t an alien during Zone of Truth.”

“That’s true.” Beau nodded, eagerly leaning forward. “It’s possible you might not know while it’s happening, but once it’s done? Full memories and knowledge of what you are. You become, like, a new person; not technically yourself, but not a carbon copy of the original alien either. You’d be like a mix of both.”

“That’s good, then.” Jester clapped her hands, beaming. “We wouldn’t have to kill anyone at all, just restore them.”

“Jessie, ah…” Veth hesitantly held up her finger, but seemingly couldn’t break her bad news. Caleb took pity on her and did it himself.

“We’d still need to know who it was.”

“Why? I could just do restoration on everyone. Boom; no more alien.”

“That would, ah…” Caleb tapped his fingers, counting silently. “…take a lot of diamonds.”

Jester huffed through her nose. “Diamonds-schmiamonds. They’re only, what, a few hundred gold a piece?”

Hearing her talk like that made Caleb somewhat weak in the knees. He kept counting, this time how many lifetimes it would’ve taken his family to earn that kind of money. How long it would take him to do it now. He would have to scam a lot of people.

“We could always steal them,” suggested Veth. “Or Caleb could seduce the merchant until they give them to us.”

Caleb allowed a small smile. “Maybe Mollymauk would be better suited for such a task.”

“They’d pay him to leave,” muttered Veth.

“That’s in the future, though,” Beau cut in. “By the time we get somewhere that has diamonds for sale there probably won’t be a person left to restore anymore.” 

“You don’t know that,” protested Jester. “We really shouldn’t plan on killing people when we don’t even know if we have to yet.” 

They all stared at her. She turned away.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said, picking at the holy symbol tied to her belt. “I know that _thing_ has to be bad. It’s just, if it is one of us, and we have to do something about it… I don’t want to hurt any of you. I’d rather hope it’s nice, actually. Or that maybe I could make it nice. I could feed it donuts and pastries until it stops wanting to eat people.”

Caleb cleared his throat and tried looking supportive. “That is an option, Jester. We’ll have to keep it in mind.”

In all honesty, if anyone could convert an alien abomination from being evil, it was Jester Lavorre.

“You might be right,” said Beau stiffly. “It might be… _friendly_.” A beat. Beau made a face. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t even suggest it, that thing is definitely evil.”

“I don’t know,” said Veth, shrugging. “I mean, it’s probably evil, yeah, but I don’t really care so long as it doesn’t try to kill us.” She considered. “Unless it’s Fjord, in which case I’ll shoot him in the face. Sorry, Jessie.”

“That’s alright; I’d just heal him,” said Jester before charging on: “And that would be kind of like Essek, right? Like, he’s sort of evil, but he isn’t trying to kill us, so he’s cool. He’s our evil friend.”

”He tried to kill _me_ ,” Caleb felt forced to point out.

Jester sighed. “That was ages ago, Caleb.”

“Yeah, Caleb,” said Beau, a smile twitching her lips. “Don’t be so judgy.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and went back to work while Veth took it upon herself to defend his honor. Their discussion quickly spiraled into possible suspects. Veth adamantly claimed Yasha to be the most likely alien, but Caleb thought it was probably only to upset Beau. It worked.

A gurgle loud enough to break Caleb’s concentration disrupted their argument. He looked up and saw Jester grimace.

“Did you not eat breakfast?” he asked.

“I’m out of pastries,” she muttered, rubbing her stomach. “And everything Caduceus gives me is green. I’m practically starving.”

“I’ve got some jerky if you want,” Beau offered.

“Oh, jerky,” said Veth, but Jester didn’t look any happier.

“I guess it’s better than vegetable stew.” She slid off the countertop. “Kitchen?”

Caleb declined to come with on what Jester decreed the “snack mission”, hoping to get a bit more work in before his shift in the engine room. Veth and Jester took the lead out of the lab, but Beau stopped next to him.

“Yes, Beauregard?” asked Caleb. She was looking at him in a strange way, studying his face as if trying to remember him from somewhere. He raised his eyebrows at her and she looked away, glancing at the data terminal.

“There’s some other stuff in here you might want to look at,” she said, and held out a memory stick. “A bunch of old notes from some pre-Calamity wizard named Halas. Talks a lot about changing bodies. I thought maybe Nott…”

Caleb stared at the memory stick. “Beauregard, I-” He swallowed. “That is, I mean, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, man. I mean _literally_ don’t mention it. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to go digging through those files.” She glowered at him, burying the friendly gesture under prickly defensiveness. 

“Of course, Beauregard.”

“I will fucking beat your ass if you tell anyone.”

Caleb swallowed his smile. “Of that I have no doubt.”

She was an interesting one, Beauregard. Rude and apologetic at the same time, craving validation while trying to convince herself she was fine as was. Was it because of her upbringing? Caleb wouldn’t know; despite its ugly end, his childhood had largely been a happy one. He didn’t know just what kind of effects a father like Beauregard’s could have on a person.

He could recognize that need for validation, though. Presumably every young wizard did.

He placed a hand on Beauregard’s shoulder, gave what he hoped to be a comforting squeeze. She gave him a wary look.

“I really am thankful, Beauregard. This was a good find. You’re a skilled researcher.”

She broke eye contact, but didn’t pull away. “I helped out in the library a lot, back in the monastery. Teaches you how to find things.” 

She looked up, gave him what Caleb thought of as a “bro nod”, and left. Caleb stayed for a few minutes longer, squeezing the memory stick until it left a white imprint in his palm.

* * *

Caleb found Fjord down in the bowels of the ship, in the company of Caduceus and Essek. He knocked at the open doorway to let them know he’d arrived. Fjord jumped and banged his head on a piece of machinery.

“Caleb,” he said, rubbing at the back of his head. “You’re early.”

“I’m not,” said Caleb. “My shift’s starting…” He stopped and quietly counted down from three. “…now.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Fjord cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s good you’re here; I wanted to speak with you.”

“Oh?” Caleb gave him a wary look from the doorway. “What about?”

“Magic, I believe,” said Caduceus. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staff across his knees. As Caleb watched, a small, pinkish beetle crawled out from a hollow in the wood and scuttled onto his hand. Caduceus held it up, watching the insect with a fond smile while it rested on his knuckles. “He’s very curious.” 

Caleb wasn’t sure if he meant Fjord or the beetle.

“Ah, well, it’s still very new to me, as you all know.” Fjord gestured to Caleb to enter the engine room; Caleb warily did so, feeling like he was walking into a trap. He hadn’t forgotten Fjord pointing a gun at his head, even if Fjord himself seemed to prefer acting as if it never happened.

“I do not know if I can help you much,” said Caleb, stopping still a safe distance away. “It is my understanding that your magic and mine are quite… different.”

In the other end of the room, Essek snorted.

Fjord leaned against the wall, not letting Caleb squirm his way out. “How so?”

“Oh, you know, mine isn’t, ah, _gifted_. So to speak. It is learned.”

“I learn,” protested Fjord. “I can do much more now than when it first came to me. That thing with the tentacles? It was practically brand new.”

“But that is what I mean,” said Caleb. “It comes to you, _ja_?”

“In dreams, mostly,” admitted Fjord. “When I actually use my abilities it just- it feels right, you know? Like there’s something in my bones telling me what to do and how to do it.”

“As I said, quite different,” said Caleb. “I spent years studying how magic works, how to bend and manipulate it. While some parts come easier to me than others” - _a memory of fire, warm and wild in his grasp_ \- “none of it ever just _comes_ to me.”

“Ah.” Fjord deflated. “I suppose that seems safer, in a way.”

“Seems like a hassle,” said Caduceus. He’d turned his hand over; the beetle was now crawling down his arm.

“I mean it isn’t conditional,” explained Fjord. “This being – my patron, I guess – I don’t know what exactly it wants, or why it picked me.”

“Worried it’s going to take back what it gave if you fail it?” asked Caleb.

A sharp laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I just like to keep my options open is all.” Fjord leaned forward, eyes suddenly very intently on Caleb. “You know, I heard there’s this school in the Empire. For mages. I’ve been thinking about going there, see if they know anything about this whole thing. And then I thought, hey, I know a dwendalian mage! So.” He cocked his head. “Heard about the place?”

Caleb tried very, very hard not to let his apprehension show. “You mean the Soltryce Academy.”

“Yeah, that’s the place. You’ve been there, then?”

Most people would’ve known to back off. Fjord just leaned closer, never averting his eyes. Clearly he was the type to gleefully poke things that might bite. Caleb stared at the nearest wall.

“For a time. It did not suit me.” Or perhaps it suited him too well.

“How come?”

Caleb felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. “They are what you might call… strict.”

He did not know if Ikithon was still teaching, nor if he’d have an interest in newly minted warlocks as well as teenaged wizard prodigies. Most of the time, he didn’t think much at all about what Ikithon might be doing nowadays; Caleb’s thoughts were much too preoccupied with the past. Whatever happened at the Academy was no longer his concern.

And yet… he did not like the idea of Fjord going there. It was harder to ignore the ugly parts of the world when they threatened the people you cared for, which made him realize, with a start, that he cared for the people on this ship. Even the ones who’d nearly killed him. 

“Perhaps you’d be better off seeking tutelage elsewhere,” he said, against all better judgment. It would’ve been smarter to smile and nod, let Fjord make his own mistakes. Calling attention to himself and his past like this was a dangerous game.

“I’d been putting some hope on Ruidus,” Fjord said. “With all the weird shit going on there, I thought maybe some of it might be relevant. But it seems I won’t be going there anytime soon.” He shot a look at Essek, who pulled his shoulders up towards his pointed ears and said nothing.

“Perhaps you’re focusing too much on searching around you,” said Caduceus. The beetle was gone; Caleb did not know where it had gone. “This sounds like something you need to find inside yourself. This patron of yours doesn’t sound too pleasant, if you ask me. Maybe what you should do isn’t figuring out what it can give you, but if the things it asks of you in return are worth it.”

Fjord opened and closed his hands, looking unhappy. “You mean giving it up? I can’t do that. I don’t want to- I can’t go back to who I was before. I’m stronger now.”

“You’re bound,” Caduceus pointed out.

“Aren’t you too, though? You’re a cleric, you have to do what your god says.”

“Hmm.” Caduceus tilted his head from side to side. “It’s more of a lifestyle, really.”

“Really?” Fjord looked simultaneously surprised and interested, eyebrows high up on his forehead. “Nothing’s expected of you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. There are things I need to accomplish – something I’m trying to accomplish with this journey, actually – but those have more to do with my home and my family than with the Wildmother herself. That said, most of the things surrounding my family are connected with her, in a sense, but she doesn’t make… demands. It’s more that she gives gentle suggestions when I’m on the wrong path.”

“Suggestions,” echoed Fjord, something longing in his expression. “No vaguely threatening dreams where you wake up feeling like you just died?”

Caduceus frowned. “Not in my experience, and I haven’t heard anyone in my family mention any such experiences.”

Caleb couldn’t help a sudden spark of curiosity. “Your whole family follows the Wildmother?”

“Oh, yes. It’s something of a tradition.”

“You mentioned something about a graveyard earlier. Is caring for it a tradition as well?”

“Of a sort.” Caduceus tapped his long, bony fingers at his staff, looking contemplative. “We look after the natural balance. Putting people back in the ground – and making sure they stay there – is part of that.”

“Sounds nice, if a bit macabre,” said Fjord. “Peaceful, I guess. Must be a lot less stressful than being out here, nearly getting eaten by aliens and whatnot.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Natural things are often violent; getting eaten is one of nature’s most common ways to go. Though I’m in admittedly no hurry of heading that way myself.” Caduceus quieted for a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Also, I don’t think I know what ‘macabre’ means.”

Someone knocked on the door. Caleb suddenly felt a lot of sympathy with Fjord’s earlier stumble, as he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hi guys,” Jester chirped, standing in the doorway with a basket full of fruit. “Me and the others ate all of Beau’s jerky, but I was still hungry so we went to the greenhouse, and I thought ‘Hey! I bet the guys would love some fresh fruit too!’” She held out the basket, then suddenly frowned. “That’s okay, right, Caduceus? I promise we didn’t pick all of it.” 

“That’s quite alright,” said Caduceus, eyeing the basket with interest. “Could I have an apple?”

Jester grinned at him, easily holding the basket with one hand while tossing an apple with the other. Caduceus caught it with his face.

“Ow.” He rubbed his cheekbone, mournfully looking at the apple smacking into the floor. “That’s going to bruise.”

“Caduceus!” Jester rushed over, pushed the basket into Caleb’s arms and put a hand to Caduceus’s cheek. “Sorry about that,” she said as her fingers became limned with pinkish light. “I’ve got a really strong arm.”

“Could your strong arms perhaps, ah, take this back?” Caleb tried to lift the basket higher; his arms did not allow it. “What is _in_ this?”

Thankfully, Jester took the basket back, then placed it on a rickety looking part of the engine. She picked a pear and took a huge bite. 

“Fruit, duh. Oh, and also.” She dug around a bit before triumphantly holding up a thermos. “Lots and lots of coffee. I don’t drink it, but Nott said I should probably bring some if I was going down here anyway.” She leaned closer to Caleb, conspiratorially lowering her voice. “She said you get _super cranky_ without it.”

“That is true,” admitted Caleb.

“Essek!” Jester bounded over towards Essek, holding out a pear. “Are you hungry?”

Essek, who’d up until now happily ignored their conversation, stared at the fruit. At Jester. At the rest of them, watching from the other end of the room.

“I recommend you take it,” said Caleb. “Before she tries to force feed you.”

Essek kept eyeing the pear. “There’s no need to-”

“It’ll go bad if you don’t,” said Caduceus. “She picked a lot.”

“I-”

“Just take the goddamn fruit,” said Fjord.

Essek took the pear, mumbling a, “Thank you, Jester.” Jester grinned, winked, and walked back with a swagger. Behind her, Essek turned the pear over in his hands a couple of times before taking a bite, never looking their way.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Jester asked, plopping down next to Caduceus and busying herself with pouring coffee into cups. She added a lot of sugar to all of them without being asked.

“Oh, nothing much.” Fjord leaned over the basket, carefully choosing one of the apples. “Only the inherent violence of nature.”

“There’s a lot of it,” said Caduceus. He accepted one of the cups, sniffed it with something like apprehension and took a sip. He immediately looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “This is terrible.”

“Right?” agreed Jester, handing the other cups to Fjord and Caleb. “And yeah, nature’s like, super violent. I once saw two seagulls get into a fight over half a chip. It was brutal.”

“I can imagine.” Caduceus carefully placed his cup on a piece of machinery before seemingly instantly forgetting about it.

“You two are very comfortable with graphic violence for healers,” muttered Fjord. He turned to Caduceus. “So if you’re out here trying to accomplish something, and that something _isn’t_ all about your goddess, what’s the deal then? Why leave the cozy family graveyard for this?” He gestured at the dank, dark engine room.

Caduceus didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t quite fidgeting – too calm and collected for that – but the way he turned his staff over and over in his hands still spoke of uncertainty.

“My home is dying,” he said eventually. “The forest was – I guess you could call it rotting. Everyone else had already left to look for a solution, and there’s supposed to always be a Clay looking after the grove, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The corruption had started to creep into the garden.”

“That sounds really scary, being all alone like that,” said Jester. “Is your family okay? Did something happen to them?”

“Maybe. I haven’t heard from any of them in quite some time, though I assume they’re still out here. They know how to take care of themselves. I was waiting – or hoping – for some kind of sign, something to tell me what to do and where to go to find them, but nothing ever came. Just the gentle push urging me to go. Eventually I did, and now I’m just… wandering. Hoping to stumble on something. I'm sure I will, eventually. The Wildmother has never led me astray before.” He smiled ruefully.

“Maybe we’re your sign,” said Jester. There was brightness in her voice, but less pep than usual; her version of somber. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like we’re going to Ruidus anymore. We could help you find your family instead.”

Caduceus blinked slowly at her, looking strikingly like a surprised cow. “That’s awfully kind of you to offer, Jester, but I couldn’t-”

“It’s no big deal.” She beamed at him. “I know what it’s like to miss family. I haven’t ever been away from my mama this long before, and I’ve never even met my dad.” She chewed at her bottom lip, then brightened. “Hey, maybe we could find our families together!”

“That…” Caduceus blinked again. “That sounds really nice, actually. Thank you, Jester.”

“It does sound like an idea,” agreed Fjord. “I’m guessing the Empire won’t be too happy with me losing one of their Archmages; it might be in my best interest to go off the radar for a while. Might as well come with you guys.”

In the quiet afterward, Caleb felt he was probably supposed to do the same and offer his services on whatever fool’s errand they were planning. Not that what he was trying to accomplish was any less foolish. And it’d be smart, sticking with a group. More people meant more safety, and a better chance of reaching his goals.

But what they were talking about wasn’t just working together; it was commitment. Caleb was still shaken by his realization of how bound he was to Veth; he didn’t know if he was prepared to let more people into that circle.

“Perhaps it’s best to save such decisions for when we’re safely back on the ground,” he said, committing neither to staying nor leaving.

“Speaking of safety.” Fjord placed his coffee cup on a workbench. “I’ve done just about all repairs I’m able to down here, so I guess I’ll just leave you to your watch.” He nodded to Caleb and went to gather up the tools he’d spread throughout the room.

Caleb nodded back and raised his cup to his lips. Took a sip. Stopped. Stayed absolutely still for a few long seconds.

“Jester,” he said, “did you put salt in this?”

She looked back, eyes widely innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.” Caleb stared at her a bit longer, then took another sip. Coffee was still coffee, after all. Then he glanced at the still half-full cup Fjord had left unguarded on the workbench. Caleb saw an opening and took it.

Jester stared opened-mouthed as he casually switched the cups. He took a big gulp immediately, unable to stop himself from giving a satisfied sigh.

“You know,” he said, taking another, smaller, sip, “Fjord does have pretty good taste.”

Fjord returned just then carrying a toolbox and muttering about a missing screwdriver. He grabbed the switched-out cup as he walked by and went to empty it.

Coffee sprayed from his nose. Caleb had to bend his head forward to hide his smile, while Jester gave a delighted gasp from the floor.

“Jester,” said Fjord, dripping coffee. “Did you-”

“ _It wasn’t me_ ,” said Jester, too thrilled to let him finish.

“It really wasn’t,” agreed Caduceus.

Fjord’s eyes narrowed. He glanced around the engine room as if looking for someone invisible. Then he hissed, “ _Nott_.”

He stalked from the room without another word. Jester just managed to wait until he was out of earshot before she broke down.

“Caleb,” she said, giggling fiercely, “you _didn’t_.”

“I needed better coffee.” Caleb took a, perhaps somewhat smug, sip from his stolen cup. “I’m sure Fjord’s pride will recover.”

“Oh dear no.” Caduceus shook his head. “I have siblings; I know a prank when I see one. I did suspect you had a sense of humor somewhere under all that scruff.”

Caleb gave him a blank look. “I really don’t.”

Jester stood suddenly, looking the most serious Caleb had ever seen her. It was somewhat unnerving. “Caleb,” she said solemnly, “prepare for a _prank war_.”

“We really don’t need to-”

“It is _on_.”

With that, she too hurried out. Caleb didn’t want to know what kind of plan she was cooking up in that pretty blue head of hers. Probably something involving glitter and glue.

“This can’t be good,” he said mildly.

“Oh yeah,” agreed Caduceus, “she’s going to destroy you. Pranks are a form of worship to her, I believe. Well, pranks and pamphlets.” He stood up, supported on his staff. “I wish you good look. Come get me if you need healing.”

* * *

After they’d left, Caleb picked up Caduceus’s abandoned cup. He took a sip to make sure it wasn’t salted, and went over to hand it to Essek.

“Oh.” Essek accepted it, seemingly more out of surprise than anything else. “You don’t have to-”

“You have been down here for days on end,” said Caleb, leaning against a wall and using his cup to warm up his hands. The ship had been getting progressively colder over the last week. “Some coffee is not that high a price for your services.”

Essek looked like he wanted to protest, but then simply nodded and took a sip. He grimaced. “Very… sweet.”

“Jester likes her sugar,” agreed Caleb. “How’s the ship coming along?”

A grimace. “You already know I’m no mechanic.”

“And that means?”

“It means that sooner or later your _captain_ will have to swallow his pride and take us to a station for repairs. As it is now, we’re staying afloat and alive, but we are barely moving.” Essek raised a hand as if wanting to hit the opened panel he’d been working on, but then took a breath and lowered it. “The least he could do is remove the handcuffs,” he muttered. “I still couldn’t fix the engine, but I could give it enough of a boost to get us to the nearest station.”

“I don’t know if that is an option,” said Caleb carefully. “You know what happened to the shuttle.”

Essek shrugged. “The nearest station isn’t Empire aligned anyway. They wouldn’t know.”

“Oh? To which nation does it belong, then?”

Essek opened his mouth to answer. Stopped himself. Cleared his throat. “That would be the Dynasty.”

“I see. I can’t imagine why Fjord wouldn’t agree to go there.”

Essek scoffed, but then his shoulders slumped. “I understand why you all don’t trust me. It’s only sensible. But I can’t-” He ran his hands through his hair, clearly not happy about having to admit to his limitations. “The damages are beyond me. We need professional help.”

Caleb gave a reluctant nod. “I will talk to him.”

“You may have to make this decision over his head. I don’t particularly trust his judgment.”

“I will talk to him,” Caleb repeated.

Essek’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t insist further. “Be mindful about it,” he simply said. “Do not… push him.”

“I know to be careful. He did pull a gun on me, as I’m sure you recall.”

Essek snorted. “Indeed.”

“But he means well, I believe. For the group, if nothing else.”

“Or for himself,” muttered Essek. “You are aware he’s after nothing but power, yes? He isn’t precisely subtle about his inquires.”

Caleb shrugged. He wasn’t all that subtle himself; he’d been pumping Essek for information about dunamancy since he learned of its existence, and they both knew it. Perhaps criticizing Fjord for his ambition was a hard thing to do when he knew it so intimately himself. It was one of the reasons the Academy would be a dangerous place for Fjord to venture into.

Almost as if he’d heard his thoughts, Essek said, “I wasn’t aware you attended the Soltryce Academy.”

“I was not aware Empire schools were so well-known in the Dynasty.”

A bitter smile crossed Essek’s face. “I have my connections, in the Academy and the Assembly in particular. They did not, accomplished as they were, strike me as the type suitable to place around children.”

“Oh, many of them are not,” Caleb agreed. “But they are skilled and ambitious and know to foster talent where they find it. It was- I miss it, sometimes. The atmosphere of it all, the way learning and knowledge were upheld over everything else. It created a very deep sense of camaraderie among us students.”

“I can see the allure,” said Essek. “I… would be lying if I said that attitude wasn’t large part of why I came into contact with them to begin with. It is hard, in the Dynasty, to find those more loyal to knowledge and progress than tradition and outdated ideologies.” He made a face. “Doesn’t mean I enjoyed working with them. They were quite unpleasant.”

“And certainly not without their own ideas about tradition and ideology,” added Caleb. “I was taught, during my time there, to do just about anything my tutor asked of me, for he asked it in the name of the Empire. I wanted to help my homeland, to better things, and I was so convinced- ah, _entschuldigen Sie mich_.” 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. When had he last spoken about this? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know if he ever had; it had been too normal to mention while it was happening, and afterwards… who was he supposed to tell about his lessons as a torturer? About his childhood friends, still under the thumb of a man who expected the unthinkable of them?

“And you no longer wish to, as you say, better things?” Essek asked, a careful tone to his voice. Caleb gave a bitter laugh.

“The Empire is rotting from within. Nothing I do can change that. But I do- I wish to undo my mistakes, I suppose.”

He quieted. Stared down at his stolen cup with its now cold coffee.

“I did some terrible things while I was there. And it felt right. Part of me still tries to tell me it _was_ right.”

He could feel Essek’s eyes on him, burning into the side of his face. He thought that if he looked up, if he met his pale gaze, that he’d burst into flames.

“We do many things in our search for knowledge,” Essek said, voice softer than usual. “It’s a carefully calculated cost. You should not let it foster guilt in you.”

“Oh?” Caleb raised his brows. “And what is it that you do not feel guilty for?”

A humorless smile. “You already know I’ve been working both sides. The Empire is prepared to let me research things the Dynasty would not, given certain… exchanges, of course. Information and objects of power, mostly; things the Dynasty would rather not see in the Empire’s hands.” He made a face. “Your monk has made me very aware of the increased risk of war due to my involvement.”

“And that is your carefully calculated cost? The possibility of war and the deaths of thousands?”

“There has been tensions between our nations for centuries,” said Essek defensively. “Violence is bound to erupt sooner or later, with or without my involvement.”

And that was the truth, was it not? And yet it made Caleb feel faintly nauseous. He thought of the people he had killed and tortured while studying under Ikithon. Of the people still being killed in that same way by the hands of his childhood friends. Of families starving in the countryside, prisons overrunning with those harshly punished for the smallest of crimes while the assembly spread its corruption and rot unhindered. How easy it was to turn your back on it all. To, as he had done, declare it irreparable, hopeless, and leave it to fester. Let the world burn for all he cared; he was busy keeping himself from the flames.

And then there was Veth, meeting him as a stranger in a cell, and yet choosing to trust him, not just with her life but with the very hope of a future as herself, in her own body.

And Jester, looking for the best even in the worst of places and the most selfish of people and monsters, seeing good in him even after he’d been nothing but cold to her. 

Beauregard, abandoned by her own family and claiming not to care, claiming to be hardened and cold, yet almost immediately risking her own life to save those she barely knew. 

Caduceus, leaving what was safe and familiar to really, truly, attempt to better things, stopping to save others even as his own home was waiting, dying.

Mollymauk, who knew nothing of Caleb and would still try to make him feel better, in his own clumsy way.

Yasha, who had seen the very worst of humanity and still spoke with softness and gentleness.

And of course Fjord, somewhat carried away with new, drunken power, but trying and trying again to keep them all safe.

And he thought of what would happen to these people, were a war to break out. 

Essek was staring at him, waiting for him to speak. There was still defensiveness on his face, but it was – a mask. His right hand was tapping anxiously against his thigh, his pointed ears twitching. When he noticed Caleb looking, he turned quickly away.

“I’m not claiming to be a good man,” he said, as if to ensure not just Caleb but himself as well. “I’m not kind or fair. But the importance of the things I do – they are worth the risk. I don’t want people to get hurt, but this is the world we live in, and I will use it in any way I can.”

“If only we lived in a perfect world,” said Caleb, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Magic is a beautiful thing; it is a shame the things it is used for. To study it unhindered, apolitically, with no blood and no death…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure where he’d been going. He’d believed in that world, once; had believed he was helping shape it.

“Yes.” Essek was staring down at his own hands. “I would quite like to live in that world.”

* * *

The first thing Caleb became lucidly aware of upon waking was that it was, according to ship time, three thirty-seven am. Fuzzy memories of screams and fire gnawed at the back of his mind, too real to fade the way a dream would. Caleb groaned and rubbed at his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He flinched, looking up. The room was dark; he could only barely see the others gathered around him. They’d been gravitating closer at night over the last week or so, slowly but surely creating something of a pile on a bunch of blankets and mattresses that Jester and Mollymauk had dragged over. All of them were breathing the soft, even breaths of sleep.

Everyone but Essek. Caleb had to squint to see him, sitting leaned against the far wall. His pale eyes gleamed slightly.

“ _Ja_ , I’m fine.” Caleb suppressed a yawn. Next to him, Veth grumbled in her sleep and burrowed closer, face against his outer thigh. Someone’s leg was over his knees, and one of Mollymauk’s horns had been digging into his stomach for what felt like a while. “And you? It is quite cold in here.”

“I’ve had worse.”

The ship’s climate control was working, but only barely; even huddled together Caleb still felt chilled. Essek had a blanket, but nothing else to keep him warm. Caleb rolled his eyes, realizing too late that drow had dark vision.

“What?” said Essek drily; Caleb could imagine him raising his brows. “Do you not believe me? Xhorhas is a very cold land in the winter.”

“Ah, no, it is not that. I simply thought you an intelligent enough man not to deny yourself simple comforts.” Caleb gestured at the group. Essek had been quiet since their conversation in the engine room; Caleb hoped maybe an invitation would help him get out of his own head. “I’ve heard both Jester and Mollymauk offer you a spot; there’s no reason to sit out in the cold.”

“To be fair, there isn’t really an ‘out’ here.”

“You know what I mean, Thelyss.”

“I also believe your monk would kill me, Widogast.”

Caleb glanced at Beauregard. She was near the middle of the pile, curled on her side facing Jester, twitching every now and then when a blue hair brushed her face. Pressed against her back was Yasha. They’d started out further apart, each mumbling something about letting the other have her space. “I know you like to sprawl out, Beau,” Yasha had said; “You have a stab instinct, right? I don’t want to accidentally punch you in the middle of the night and get killed,” Beauregard had replied. It was silly and obvious and somewhat endearing. Caleb hoped he’d be awake to see their reaction upon waking curled back to back.

“I think she’ll have other things on her mind,” he said.

Essek still didn’t move. Caleb made an exasperated gesture at the mattress-pile.

“I am not going to insist if it makes you uncomfortable, but the option is here.”

A beat of silence. Then Essek very slowly stood up and shuffled closer.

“I don’t even need sleep,” he muttered, stopping a few steps away.

“You don’t need warmth, either?”

Essek shot him a look, but all Caleb could really make out were the pale of his irises. He scooted to the side to open up some space, hoping that’d be enough encouragement for Essek to sit. Essek didn’t move for a moment, presumably waging an internal war against his dignity. Then he gave a full-body shiver, scoffed as if upset at the physicality of his own body, and sat down on the very edge of the mattress. Caleb very carefully didn’t touch him.

“You should lie down,” he said gently. “Or you’ll get a backache.”

“I’m fine like this, thank you.”

They both jumped when someone suddenly groaned. Mollymauk, who Caleb had assumed asleep, squinted up at them.

“Are you two having a secretive midnight chat without me?” he rasped, voice gritty with sleep.

“Yes,” said Caleb bluntly. “It has been very informative.”

“Shut up, it was a rhetorical question.” Mollymauk slumped back down. “It’s the middle of the night. _Go. To. Sleep._ Or at least do something more _fun_.” 

He grinned sharply at his own not-too-subtle suggestion, mouth partly obscured by a blanket. Caleb felt his face grow hot, which probably meant he was the shade of one of the tomatoes Caduceus grew in the greenhouse. Mollymauk’s grin widened. Of course he too had to be able to see in the dark. 

“You could still invite me,” he purred.

“I think we will just, ah, go back to sleep,” Caleb managed to force out. He lay down without waiting for an answer. Next to him, Essek did not move from his sitting position.

“You too, elf boy,” Mollymauk said. “You’re making me nervous sitting and staring at us like that.”

“My apologies,” Essek said. “It wasn’t my intention to-”

“Oh my gods, _shut up_.” Mollymauk rolled over onto his stomach, flung an arm over Essek’s legs, and fell face-first into a pile of blankets. Essek went rigid in his whole body.

“Just be happy he’s wearing clothes,” Caleb muttered. 

“And lie down,” Mollymauk practically growled into the mattress. “Or I will make you.”

Essek very carefully did as he was told, evidently trying his hardest not to touch anyone. Caleb felt a little sorry for him; touch was a complicated beast, and one he himself struggled with. It always, in a sense, had to be on his terms. He needed to know there were no trickery or undue expectations, that the other person would back off if he truly asked them to. It had always been okay with Veth because she realized his terms and followed them. It made her safe, even if she’d sleep on top of him or clamber all over him after a fight to see if he was hurt. She gave it effortlessly but without pushing, and so Caleb gave it effortlessly back.

The rest of the group – it wasn’t that he trusted them, exactly. He barely knew most of them. But there was that same sense of effortless intimacy. They gave, but they didn't expect nor push. It reminded him, in a way, of his childhood friends and the easy touches they’d exchange. A hand on a shoulder in passing, a light brush of fingers against his back or arm. He'd gone so many years without that, locked in a cell or wandering the road alone, but had only recently realized how much he’d missed it. He’d pulled away a little after the realization hit, unwilling to allow himself neither vulnerabilities nor the soft things he longed for, but still he found himself allowing the group closer and closer.

Essek clearly didn’t share the feeling. He was practically holding his breath, lying stiff as a plank. Pity won out. Caleb propped himself up on one elbow, reached over Essek and removed Mollymauk’s arm from his legs, then sent Frumpkin to lie between them as a buffer. The tiefling grumbled but didn’t resist, instead curling up with his back to Essek’s knees and thighs. Essek breathed out.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Caleb pulled back; his hand brushed Essek’s arm, and they both froze for a moment before Caleb very slowly lay back down. He tried to pretend his heart wasn’t beating hard enough for him to feel it in his fingertips. Nothing safe and easy about that. “ _Guten Nacht_ , Thelyss.”

“Good night,” said Essek, so quiet it could barely be heard.

* * *

The second time Caleb woke, it was because something was beeping. It wasn’t the high scream of an alarm, but it was loud and insistent enough to make sleep impossible.

“Turn it oooff,” Jester whined, face buried in her pillow.

Next to her, Beauregard and Yasha had woken tangled in each other and were too busy babbling apologies to really notice the noise. Seeing them reminded Caleb about what had happened during the night, and he looked down next to himself.

Essek had, despite insisting on not needing to, seemingly fallen asleep. He had turned over on his side at some point, face towards Caleb, while Mollymauk had gravitated close again on his other side. Now he was blinking, squinting and looking confused. Caleb moved aside a little, disentangling himself from the arm Essek had placed over his waist before Essek became lucid enough to realize where it’d ended up. He’d likely be flustered enough as it was once he realized he’d slept.

“What’s going on?” Caleb asked the room at large.

Fjord, who’d crawled off the mattress pile and dug out his comm from his clothes, looked up at him. “Someone’s hailing us,” he said, sounding perplexed.

Caleb became awake all at once. “Is it Empire?”

“No, it…” Fjord scratched at his unkempt hair. “It doesn’t say?”

“Answer and tell them to fuck off,” grumbled Mollymauk. He tried to snuggle up closer to Essek, who was entirely awake at this point and hastily moving himself out of reach. Molly made a dismayed noise and reached for Caleb instead. Caleb sent Frumpkin to distract him.

“Do you recognize the call signal?” he asked while Molly curled himself around the cat.

“No, it’s not…” Fjord’s eyes widened. “ _Shit_. Everyone, get up.” He kicked a mattress. Veth threw a pillow at him.

“This is serious,” Fjord hissed as the pillow harmlessly bounced off his chest. “The pirates are back.”

* * *

They stood gathered on the bridge, staring at the hail blinking on a screen.

“I don’t see why they’d call,” Yasha mumbled. “They could just attack.”

“We kicked their asses last time, though,” Beau pointed out. “Maybe they’re scared.”

“Then why come after us again at all?”

They glanced at Fjord; no one needed to answer the question. Fjord sighed. Raked his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair in an attempt at composure.

“I’m going to answer. Everyone, step out of reach of the screen. I don’t want them to know how many we are.”

The face that appeared on the screen was a familiar one: elven, tanned, an impressive mane of red hair. Captain Avantika smiled, dangerously sharp.

“Hello, darling. I believe you and I have some unfinished business.”

“And I believe we haven’t had the _pleasure_ of meeting,” Fjord said icily.

“Oh, but that’s why I’m here. The two of us should be introduced. We have quite a lot in common, after all. Perhaps we could… help each other.”

She eyed him up and down in a way that wasn’t subtle at all. Fjord was still wearing the half-open shirt he’d slept in; Avantika’s eyes lingered before slowly dragging back up.

“I fail to see that we have anything in common,” Fjord said, completely stone-faced.

“Really, now?” Avantika raised a hand, fingers lightly touching her chin. Then she turned the hand slightly to the side, revealing – a yellow eye staring out from her palm.

This time, Fjord’s mask broke. Avantika’s shark’s grin widened as he gaped.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” she said silkily. “No matter; I’ll have you up to speed in no time. Should I send over a shuttle to pick you up?”

“Now hold on, I never said-”

“Or I could just send another raiding party. I heard you lost quite a bit of crew recently; I’m sure the fight would be more in my favor, this time around.”

“And I’m sure that if you’ve heard that, you’re also aware that I’m currently the acting captain of this vessel. I can’t just abandon my crew.”

“Why of course not. I suggest you appoint a replacement before leaving. Assuming you come willingly, of course.” Avantika lowered her eyelids, looking like a smug cat. “If I have to come and get you I’ll make sure there’s no one still alive to complain of your absence.”

Fjord took a moment before answering, glancing over at the group. “Very well, he said finally, and Beauregard had to grab Jester to stop her from physically leaping in front of the screen. Caleb swore to himself and mentally began running through spells. He didn’t think he had anything that could take out a space ship. He couldn’t exactly shoot a fireball through vacuum. “Give me twenty minutes to talk it over with them.”

“You have ten.”

The screen went black.

“Fjord!” Jester screamed, throwing her arms up and inadvertently knocking Beauregard in the face. “You can’t!”

“They’d probably just kill us anyway the moment they have you,” said Caduceus.

“Yeah man,” agreed Beau, rubbing her cheek.

The others joined in with their protests. Even Veth piped up, although mostly to point out how stupid she thought he was for even considering it. Caleb stayed quiet, still running through spells. If they could get close enough for him to target the engines he might actually be able to do some damage, but they’d be horribly exposed on such a short distance, and-

“I’m not going,” Fjord said, trying to disentangle himself from the rest of the group. Jester was practically hanging from his arm, and he eventually gave up and moved through the bridge with her dragging along. Then, to Caleb’s great surprise, he stopped in front of Essek.

“You said there’s a station nearby. Can you get us there?”

Essek spent a whole three seconds – Caleb counted – looking absolutely flabbergasted, before closing his mouth with an audible click.

“I could- I mean- _yes_ , but-” He held up his shackled hands, gave a frustrated little shake. 

Fjord – who apparently wasn’t done surprising everyone yet – nodded, pulled a key from a pocket, and unlocked the cuffs. When Essek just stared, Fjord placed a hand on his shoulder and started pushing him toward the door. Caleb quickly hurried after them.

“Keep an eye on their ship,” Fjord called over his shoulder to the equally flabbergasted crew. “We’ll get the engine going, and then we’ll run like hell and hope we make it.”

* * *

Caleb didn’t expect to be able to help much down in the engine room. Mostly he planned to stay out of the way, a spell ready on his tongue in case Essek tried anything. But to his surprise, Essek almost immediately roped him into assisting, asking him to hand over tools and spell components and doing stressed calculations of spells he’d barely even heard of before. It made his head buzz with stress, but in a good way; he felt like he was learning more new magic than he had in the last year. Fjord hung back, watching them, but didn’t intervene.

When Essek finally rubbed his hands together and started speaking the spell, Caleb held his breath. A circle of light started glowing in front of Essek, breaking into glittering fractals before sinking into the reactor core. Coils and crystals immediately started glowing a biting, poisonous blue, like ice shards under sunlight. Caleb didn’t think it was supposed to look like that. Essek was still holding his hands out, and his teeth were gritted.

Behind them, Fjord was speaking through his comm, ordering the others to fire up the engines and get the hell out of there. Underneath them, the floor was starting to shake.

“Are you holding up okay?” Caleb asked Essek, who’d started to sweat. He bared his teeth in something like a smile.

“I am doing fine. It’s just a bit… straining.”

Caleb nodded. His hands subconsciously went to his scarred arms; he knew when someone was understating pain. “Would you like me to distract you?”

Essek hesitated, then nodded. “Please. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“This will get us to the station how fast?”

“Half a day, at most.”

That was a little worrying. “And the pirates won’t catch us?”

“Don’t worry about that. Our engines will be going on overdrive; they won’t be able to catch up once we get going.”

“Have you been to this station before, then?”

“No. I haven’t had much time to travel between my studies and responsibilities.”

Essek’s raised arms were starting to tremble. Caleb put a hand on his shoulder, gave a light squeeze.

“There’s a lot to learn from travel,” he said. “It gives perspective.”

Something wistful entered Essek’s face. “So I’ve begun to realize.”

“You should do it more, after this. There’s a lot of beautiful places in the Empire, though you’d have to go back to your disguise to visit them safely.”

“Should I survive, perhaps,” said Essek. “Would you show me these sights, then?”

He seemed to realize what he’d asked a second after the words were out; his eyes widened minutely and the glowing patterns on the machinery wavered.

“Perhaps,” said Caleb, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “If we survive.”

The light finally evened out, settling in a still sharp but less painful shade. Essek breathed out as he lowered his arms.

“It won’t hold for long, but it will get us there,” he said, face flushed. “I’m afraid the repairs will be quite costly, though.”

There came a sudden screeching noise, and the reactor lit back up. Only this time the light didn’t calm, but instead moved towards them in a wave. Caleb reflexively went to cast a Shield, even knowing it wouldn’t be of much help. Then there was a strong hand on his bicep, another on Essek’s, and Fjord pulled both of them back and out of existence.

They reappeared in the hallway outside. In front of them, the door shook as the energy blast hit it. Fjord breathed out, still holding both of them upright.

“Close one,” he said. “I’m pretty sure Avantika just fired at us. She probably isn’t happy that we’re running. We should be out of her line of fire soon, though.”

Almost as if in answer, the ship veered sharply to the side, sending them tumbling into a wall. Caleb wondered who was steering.

“You just-” Essek’s purple face had gone ashen.

“Yeah, yeah, I saved your life, you can thank me later.” Fjord let go of his arm.

“It isn’t- I’m not-” Essek was spluttering. Caleb felt a bit winded himself, but it wasn’t the first time he’d nearly gotten blasted into a wall. He doubted it was Essek’s first, either. Might be the first time someone saved him, though. He was still staring at Fjord, looking almost insulted. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t ask you to.”

“Tough. I don’t want any dead wizards in my engine room. Also, we’re going to need you to help us blend in on this station of yours.”

Essek’s face shuttered. “Of course.”

Fjord grinned at him, pulled the shackles back out, and smacked them into Essek’s hands. “Now put these back on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xhorhas, here we come (kinda)!
> 
> God, this chapter fought me the whole way, but at least it's finished now. Thank you for all of your sweet comments! I'm really excited about the next couple of chapters; things are about to go down, and I can't wait to share it with all of you!
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr if you want, I'm [nellasbookplanet](https://nellasbookplanet.tumblr.com/)!


	8. Dancing Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau goes to therapy.

The pirate ship didn’t back off until they were close enough to the xhorhasian station to hail for help. Beau had argued against doing so, but Essek had assured them that the Dynasty wasn’t any more positively inclined towards pirates than the Empire.

“This is an independent ship, not a dwendalian one,” he’d said, visibly annoyed at their hesitation. “Just don’t let them know you have humans on board and you’ll be fine.”

They did, eventually, send the hail. There was no point in coming all this way if they were going to chicken out at the last second, after all.

Not that the station had to actually do anything. According to the dockmaster Fjord spoke to over a vid call, Avantika turned tail and ran the moment they tried to contact her ship. They didn’t even have to threaten to send out fighters.

“Bloody pirates, cowards the lot of them,” the dockmaster – a goblin of all things – had grumbled. “Only ever go after isolated ships. You’re lucky you got here in time, especially with the state you’re in.”

That had conveniently led into questions about mechanics and engineers and what their prizes might be, at which point Beau had wandered out of the bridge in search of better entertainment.

She was still shaky with adrenaline, a mix of exhaustion and excitement after the nearly twelve hour long chase. She went for a run in the hallways to shake it off, and when she still felt jittery afterwards the found herself an open doorway and started doing pull-ups.

It was the door to the greenhouse, where everyone but Fjord and Essek were sitting around looking about ready to melt into the grass. Molly was lying on his back, arms and legs splayed; Yasha was sitting peacefully threading a flower crown while Jester braided leaves and petals into her hair. Caleb sat a bit removed from them, quietly making notes in his ever-present spellbook, head tilted to the side to allow Nott to follow Jester’s lead and braid tiny, white flowers into his red hair. Nott herself wore a simpler braid, with only a few flowers lovingly stuck in it; Caleb’s handiwork, probably. Apparently Beau was the only one who reacted to near death experiences with an intense need to work out.

To be fair, Avantika nearly shooting them out of the sky wasn’t the only thing occupying her mind.

She had, perhaps, maybe, _possibly_ , taken her snooping a step too far. She’d thought she learned her lesson with Nott, but then Fjord had given her those _wonderful_ access codes, and Beau’d only had to poke a _little_ bit to get full access to the entirety of DeRogna’s file library, and _how_ was she supposed to resist that?

One of the things she’d found was a wanted list. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t relevant. The only reason she’d even really glanced at it was to see if any of the aliases she’d used in her good old days would pop up.

Instead, she’d been immediately faced with a notice for one Bren Ermendrud, right next to a picture that was clearly Caleb. It looked to be a few years old at least, but that wasn’t what’d struck her. She was used to thinking of Caleb as somewhat disheveled; unshaven, smelling of spell components (which sounded well enough in theory, but became less so once you realized it was a wild mix of molasses, licorice, plain dirt, and other things that really didn’t go together), and in constant need of a haircut and clean clothes. 

The Caleb on the picture was a true mess. Matted hair, uneven beard, wild, terrified eyes blazing out from a face covered in dirt and filth. Next to it stood a small note saying it had been taken at the _Vergessen Sanatorium_ , five months prior to him murdering a guard and escaping.

It wasn’t a very detailed file. All it mentioned of the reasons of his incarceration was a mental breakdown after _killing his own parents_.

That was shocking enough, but the funny thing was, the way it was phrased, it wasn’t the murdering that saw him locked up. It was his reaction to their deaths. A note at the end said: “familial loyalties too strong, of unsound mind for scourger work, but of promising talents. Recapture preferable over death.” 

Scourgers were, as far as Beau knew, Assembly agents. Very dangerous, very loyal to the Empire. She hadn’t considered the sort of tests they were put through to try said loyalties.

He was looking at her, frowning as she did – how many pull-ups had she done? Her arms were aching, shaking, but she’d learnt to work through pain years ago. Dairon used to tell her that she needed to stop when her body told her to, or she’d hurt herself. Dairon didn’t understand that pain was part of the reason. Muscle aches were such an uncomplicated sort of hurt.

Caleb was still staring at her, as if he didn’t realize she’d noticed. Beau dropped to the floor, walked over to a free corner of the greenhouse, and started doing sit-ups instead.

Had DeRogna known? Beau didn’t think so; she hadn’t known about Molly, or Nott, or the pirates stalking them, or the alien parasite about to turn her spaceship into a buffet. The only thing she seemed to know about was Essek, and both Beau and Caleb had found him out soon enough. He wasn’t a very good spy, to be honest.

When Beau glanced back at Caleb, he’d stopped frowning at her and was instead frowning at the doorway she’d used to do pull-ups. As she watched, he closed his book, put it away in some kind of harness hung over his shoulders, and went to stand in it. Then, to Nott’s crows of encouragement, he attempted a pull-up of his own. Only one of his feet left the floor. He let go, staggered slightly, straightened his coat with an air of nonchalance, and walked back to Nott – who gave him a thumbs up – as if he’d never even tried. Beau noted he held one of his arms as if he’d pulled a muscle.

This was the guy who’d killed his own family? She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t personally seen the careful way his face went blank whenever he threatened or performed extreme violence. Still, it was a lot. And what was she supposed to _do_ about it? Should she do anything at all? Should she ask him if he was, like, _okay_?

Or should she just prepare herself in case he went murder-y again and tried to fireball them all?

“Okay, everyone, listen up.”

Fjord strode into the greenhouse, Essek close on his heel. Beau did one last sit-up and then sat there, sweat soaked and feeling not even a little bit better.

“I’ve booked us a place in their docks,” Fjord went on once he had their attention. “And they’ll send over a mechanic to look over the ship in the morning. I’m guessing it’ll take them at least a day to get it fixed up.”

“Wait.” Molly, who’d cracked all of one eye open, suddenly sat up. “Are you saying we’ve got time off?”

“Oh, we can be tourists,” said Jester, excitedly clapping her hands.

“I feel I should remind all of you,” said Essek drily, “that this station belongs to the Kryn Dynasty. Some of you might be a tad… conspicuous.” He levelled a look first at Caleb, then at Beau.

“I can disguise myself,” said Caleb. “And Nott, you’ve repaired your holomask, correct? Maybe you could loan it to Beauregard.”

Nott’s hand flew to a tiny device clipped to her belt. “She might break it.”

“I would _not_ ,” said Beau, and then, suddenly excited when an idea struck her, “Hey, could you make me a tiefling? That’d be cool, right?”

Jester lit up. “Oh my gods, Beau, that’d be so awesome!”

“It’d be interesting to see you with a tail,” said Yasha with a soft intensity that _did_ things to Beau.

“I don’t know.” Nott held the device close to her chest now, still reluctant to hand it over. “It’s just a hologram. It won’t actually give you horns and a tail. People might notice.”

“Oh.” Beau deflated. “Something else, then. Drow, maybe? They don’t have any…” She gestured vaguely at the ornamented horns on Jester’s head. “…extra appendages.”

They spent the next half-hour or so discussing logistics; who should go with who, what supplies they needed to pick up, how best to blend in. It was kind of exciting. The last week had been a tense, drawn out standstill, with barely anything to do and the constant threat of either the ship giving up the ghost or an alien biting someone’s head off hanging over them. Beau was loathe to admit it, but she was really looking forward to some shore leave.

By the time they started to drop off to for bed, the buzz of adrenaline had finally started to let go of her limbs. She stood, stretching her arms over her head. Almost against her will, her gaze drifted over to Yasha.

She was walking with Jester and Molly. She looked relaxed. Soft, even, carefully petting the flower crown she’d made and sticking any petals that fell off into Molly’s hair. Beau let her arms fall and just looked.

Yasha stopped turning the crown over in her hands when Jester leaned in and whispered something in her ear, gesturing to the crown. Beau could see the back of Yasha’s head move in a nod. As they walked out of the greenhouse, Yasha reached out and deposited the crown on top of Essek’s pointy white hair.

He went cross-eyed like a cat with something on its face. Jester burst out in delighted laughter and Molly slapped him on the back in passing, both of them complimenting him on his new accessory. Even Yasha smiled, a tiny crook at the corner of her lips.

“You should talk to her.”

Beau jumped. Nott was standing next to her, staring up at her with practically luminous yellow eyes. Beau made a face.

“I think not. Didn’t you hear her story? I’m not- I can’t-”

She made a frustrated noise in her throat. Nott kept looking at her with something like sympathy. “She likes you though. Trust me, I can tell these things.”

“Oh yeah? Tell how?”

Nott frowned, looking like she’d been asked to explain how breathing worked. “You have so much in common. You both like punching people, and you’re both so awkward, like _wow_ , have you even held a conversation before? Oh, and you both have a tragic past.” She grinned, pleased with her logic. “Clearly you’re made for each other.”

Beau sighed, the tiny bit of hope Nott’d sparked dying in her chest. “Forget it.”

By the door, Essek’d taken off the flower crown, but held it carefully in both hands instead of dropping it on the floor. He looked up when Beau approached, then glanced over at Fjord.

“So,” he said, “what am I to expect of my future, after tomorrow’s visit?”

Beau raised a brow. “You asking if we’re going to hand you over to your queen?”

“It’s been on my mind,” Essek drawled.

“I don’t see that we have to,” said Fjord. “We’ve got our business, you’ve got yours. If anything, this seems like a good opportunity for us to go our separate ways.”

Essek narrowed his eyes, obviously not believing him. Beau wasn’t sure she did either.

* * *

Everlight Station wasn’t remotely like Halfway. It was significantly larger, for one; practically a floating city. It also didn’t have any outer walls.

“We have _got_ to ask Essek about this shit,” said Beau as she stood in the docking bay with Yasha, Caduceus and Jester. Instead of an outer hull there was some kind of energy field encasing the station, glowing a soft blue. Around them, a myriad of people of various races mingled happily. There didn’t seem to be a single human.

“I’m sure Caleb could get him to tell everything he knows,” said Jester, waggling her eyebrows. Beau made a face.

“Gross, Jes.”

“No, seriously, look at them.” Jester nodded over at Caleb, barely recognizable in a disguise similar to Beau’s, and Essek, who stood in a cluster with Nott and Mollymauk. Caleb was talking, probably listing the various spell components he needed to stock up on, while Essek just stared, seemingly hanging onto every word. “Caleb practically has him wrapped around his little finger,” said Jester.

“I don’t like it,” Beau muttered, giving Essek a glare even if he wasn’t looking her way. “Whatever he’s got planned, I don’t want him to drag Caleb into it.”

“The only thing he wants to drag Caleb into is his pants.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Jester grinned, then made a noise as if she’d thought of something. “Shit, I almost forgot. Don’t leave without me, okay, I’ll be right back.”

She took off across the dock without waiting for an answer, digging a sad looking flower crown out of her pink haversack as she went. Beau watched curiously as she stopped in front of the other group and held it out to Caleb. He stared at it with a look of deep suspicion.

Beau leaned closer to Caduceus, keeping her eyes on Caleb. “What’s up with him?”

Caduceus glanced their way. Smiled when he saw Caleb reluctantly accepting the flower crown. “I believe he’s fearing for his life. Jester challenged him to a prank war.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. When they did, Beau burst out laughing. “Seriously? What, do you think she sprinkled itching powder on the flowers or something?”

“No.” Caduceus considered Jester, who winked at the distressed Caleb and skipped away. “Right now, I suspect she’s having more fun just messing with his head. The actual prank will come when he least suspects it.”

Jester returned, and they waited together while Fjord talked with the mechanic – an orcish woman who, to Fjord’s visible discomfort, wasn’t very subtle with how she looked him over, grinning all the while – before gathering to leave. Caleb’s group was already long gone.

Instead of the bare corridors Beau remembered from Halfway, they walked right into an open marketplace. Stalls and tents lined the walkways, obscuring bigger businesses and even homes that seemed to have grown out of the metal floor, walls covered with something like a dark moss or lichen. Fairy lights and globules lit up the streets with a faint, dim light, while above them the barrier tinted everything a slight bluish hue.

Beau walked backwards and spun in circles, trusting someone to catch her if she was about to bump into something. There was just so much to _see_.

“This isn’t at all what I expected,” she admitted.

“I have to agree.” Fjord, having recovered from the flirty mechanic, looked around almost as much as Beau, but was a bit more subtle about it. Beau didn’t care for subtle.

“There’re goblins,” she hissed. “And gnolls! I think I saw a _bugbear_ earlier.”

“I saw him too,” said Jester. “He was selling crêpes.”

”Maybe keep your voices down.” Fjord’s gaze darted around. “We’re drawing enough attention as it is.”

It was true. Fjord and Jester were mostly fitting in, though a bit conspicuous in their not very xhorhasian outfits, and Beau was blending in pretty well with the help of the loaned mask. Yasha and Caduceus however were drawing some looks. Mostly people turned away from Yasha once they noticed her distinctly xhorhasian facial markings – though some of them kept glaring and whispering – but they kept staring at Caduceus. They didn’t look hostile towards him, mainly just confused and curious. Beau couldn’t fault them; she hadn’t even known what a firbolg was before meeting Caduceus. Probably they weren’t any less rare in Xhorhas. Besides, she was doing her fair share of staring herself.

“I guess I thought it was going to be less… civilized?” she said, observing as an orc the size of two Fjords haggled with a tiny goblin over vegetables. From what she’d heard Yasha tell, she’d expected brawls on the streets and blood spattered walls. Possibly even a station that was barely staying in the sky instead of this display of awesome arcane and technological proves.

“Was it like this where you lived, Yasha?” asked Jester.

“No.” Yasha glanced around, looking on guard but not worried. “We didn’t go into the cities much.”

“I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like growing someplace like this,” said Fjord. “It’s the first time I – well.” He gave an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Strange as it is, I’ve never felt less out of place. Growing up in Port Damali – let’s just say I was the one getting looks, there.”

“Maybe they just thought you were really cool,” Jester suggested. Fjord grimaced.

“That’s a nice thought, but probably not. If they did I wouldn’t have had such a hard time finding a job. No one’s very interested in hiring someone of orcish blood unless they have a lot of heavy lifting that needs doing, and, well.” He half-heartedly flexed one arm. It was kind of a sad sight. “I don’t really have much to offer in that department. Had to work really hard to get anyone to take me even half seriously as a spacer.”

“Maybe visiting here’ll be good for you, then.” Caduceus, unlike Yasha, looked entirely relaxed, and kept smiling and waving at the staring people. “Let you see yourself and your people in a fair way, instead of from the eyes of the peoples who judge you.”

Fjord looked absolutely stumped. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I just assumed…” He looked around again, slower this time, taking in the bustling marketplace. “I assumed they were the way people spoke of them. Monstrous. Evil. That I had to remove myself from them as far as possible. And here they are, just… people.”

“They usually are,” said Caduceus. Fjord snorted.

“You know what? I think I’ll like visiting, actually.”

“You won’t want to stay, right?” Jester piped up, sounding nervous. “I mean I get that maybe it’s better than the Empire or the Coast in some ways, but…” She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, looking unusually vulnerable. Then she brightened in a visibly forced smile. “Of course you can stay if you want to, I totally understand if you-”

“Jester.” Fjord placed a hand on her shoulder. Smiled. “I’m not really the settling type. Not in a long time yet, at least. And I kind of like this whole thing we’ve got going.” He gestured, not just at Jester but at Beau, Yasha and Caduceus as well.

“We did have plans, after all this,” said Caduceus.

“Wait, we do?” Beau’s eyes snapped to him. “Since when?”

Jester launched into some spiel about missing families and laying low and sticking together, and, fuck, Beau hadn’t even realized this was something they’d discussed. She’d just assumed they’d scatter the moment they got their feet back on solid ground. The alternative, sticking together – she hadn’t even dared think it. If she had thought it, she would’ve begun to hope.

“Wait,” she said, breaking off Jester’s chatter. “I kinda thought you’d want to go back home. I know you said you’d have to stay away for a while, but it’s _been_ a while, and you’re always talking about how much you miss your mom. Whatever prank you did can’t have been bad enough to stay away for much longer.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty bad,” Jester hedged. Seeing Beau’s face, she quickly sobered. “Of course I’ll go back eventually, I’m not gonna leave my mama forever, but…”

The words trickled out. On the other side of her, Fjord leaned a little closer, carefully touching her upper arm. “But?”

“Oh, you know.” Jester nonchalantly flapped one hand. “I always thought about adventure and stuff when I was little. And I figured that yeah, _obviously_ I’d have my own adventures one day, me and the Traveler, but I didn’t really- I guess I didn’t think about it practically, you know? That I’d have to leave home. And now that I _have_ – I don’t know. Whenever I think about going back to how things used to be, it doesn’t feel so good, even if I miss my mama so, so much.”

“It’s not so strange to have mixed feelings about home,” said Yasha softly.

“Yeah,” agreed Jester. “I love the Chateau, and I love my mama, but it’s just, it’s like I didn’t even realize-” She gestured at the station around them. “The world is so _big_! And I was about to miss it.” She lowered her arms, voice going softer. “I was about to miss you guys, and I wouldn’t even have known.”

“Loneliness is like that,” said Yasha. “It becomes a comfort.”

“True,” Caduceus nodded. “It chills you slowly until it feels like friend. You don’t notice how cold it was until it’s chased away.”

“I wasn’t lonely, though,” protested Jester. “I had my mama, and the Traveler, and the people at the Chateau. I was happy.”

Instead of trying to point out Jester’s obvious denial, Yasha just looked out over the marketplace and said, “I was lonely.”

Jester deflated. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I thought I wanted to be. A lot of the time, I still do.”

“I get that,” said Beau. “Being alone is easier. There’s no one to disappoint you, and you don’t have to worry about disappointing anyone yourself.”

“Yeah,” agreed Yasha.

“So you want to leave, then?” Jester curled in on herself a little, hands cupping her elbows. Fjord moved his hand until it was resting reassuringly on her shoulder, and she leaned into him. “When this is all done, I mean?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really plan these things.” Yasha was starting to look uncomfortable. Beau decided to step in and save her from further questioning.

“I don’t really plan out what I’m gonna do either. I always kinda figured I’d be dead by now, but I’m not, so I just sort of keep going and see where I end up.”

Apparently she’d said something weird, because they were all suddenly staring at her, shocked and horrified. Only Yasha had a more pensive look, something almost like pained understanding on her face.

“You thought you’d be _dead_?” exclaimed Jester. “ _Beau_!”

“What?”

“ _Why_?”

“I don’t know,” said Beau, somewhat defensively. “Things sucked, so I got involved with some bad stuff. It doesn’t end well for people like that. Never does.”

“I’m not going to let you die,” said Jester, nodding to herself. “I’ll just have to stick with you, and if someone hurts you, I’ll simply bring you back.”

“Not if I kill them before they get to her,” said Yasha lightly.

Fjord reached out and punched Beau on the shoulder, muttering something about foolhardy risk takers (he was one to speak), while Caduceus placed a big hand on top of her head.

“No one ever really knows where their road will lead,” he said, “but I doubt yours will be anything other than great.”

Beau opened her mouth to say something snarky, but found herself unable to speak. She couldn’t even bring herself to shake off his hand.

She imagined being on her own again, starting over with her petty crimes, dodging the Soul while pretending she’d willingly left her family rather than been sent away. A surge of something like panic rose in her.

They could do something together. These people. They could perform that Restoration ritual Caleb and Jester had discussed, make sure there wasn’t an alien among them, and then they could do whatever. Something good, even.

It was an odd thought. The world was falling apart around her; war on the horizon, threats of alien invasion creeping in from the vast dark, surrounded by highly suspicious in the middle of enemy land, and yet here she was, feeling lighter than she could remember ever doing. She didn’t want to run. Didn’t want to burrow back into one of her holes and spread her misery around. She wanted to do something, big or small. With these people.

Because without them? She feared she’d slide right back where she’d started.

* * *

They spent the day going from stall to stall and shop to shop, haggling and handing over credit chits and purchasing a lot of things they absolutely didn’t need. Jester and Caduceus bought a frankly ridiculous amount of diamonds (on ship funds, thankfully; DeRogna couldn’t exactly complain), and Beau couldn’t help but spend some of her meager savings on a set of throwing stars. 

They also tried out some of the local cuisine. Or at least Beau did. It was hard to resist when Yasha saw a merchant selling various foodstuffs on skewers and practically lit up, a stark contrast to her normally withdrawn demeanor. Besides, Beau wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, even if the challenge was fried insects. She liked imagining her father’s reaction if he’d seen her share a plate full of beetles with a xhorhasian; it would’ve almost been worth seeing him again just to witness his expression.

“Most of them I catch right here on the station,” the cook said proudly, indicating a display of various insects, spiders and rodents.

“They are really good, almost like home,” Yasha assured him.

“Yeah, they’re real crunchy,” Beau agreed. “But there’s this creamy center, you know?”

Yasha and the cook both nodded knowingly, while Jester, Fjord and Caduceus stood back, looking absolutely appalled.

Eventually, once the day was nearing its end, they split up, Fjord and Yasha going to buy the heavier supplies they needed (they’d apparently used up _a lot_ of spare parts over the last week) while Beau and Caduceus followed Jester into what, naturally, turned out to be a bakery.

Not just a bakery, Beau realized as she walked through the door; a _fancy_ bakery. There was a big display window showing off extravagant pastries to exorbitant prizes, and a small café section with wrought iron tables. Between the two sections was a strangely open floor space, with a raised stage at one end where an orc girl was playing some kind of string instrument. Admittedly that last part wasn’t as impressive as it appeared; the girl looked to be in her late teens at most, and had probably been conscripted by her parents to entertain the customers. Both Jester and Caduceus gave her encouraging thumbs up when they walked past, causing her to miss a couple of notes.

Beau hadn’t planned to buy anything, but caught herself when she noticed a row of bottles standing on a shelf behind the counter. Not just a bakery, apparently.

“Hey,” she said, leaning over the counter while Jester and Caduceus excitedly discussed pastries. “Do you have any Lionett wine?”

The cashier, an orcish woman, further lending credence to Beau’s theory about the girl on the stage, gave her a blank look. “Haven’t heard of it. And we don’t serve wine here, anyway. We’ve got a pretty good cider, though, and some liquors.”

“Oh.” Beau blinked, unsure whether what she felt was disappointment or something like vindication. So much for the widely recognized family brand. “Yeah, cider will be fine, thanks.” 

The cider was very good. Beau stood sipping it off to the side, watching Jester order what was probably half the inventory. Caduceus apparently had even less money than Beau, and seemed a little perplexed at the fact that food cost money.

“Take this,” Jester said, shoving a box into his hands before turning towards Beau. Beau had the urge to take her cider and run. “We’re going to taste _everything_ ,” said Jester, grabbing Beau’s arm and dragging her over to a table.

“But this is really expensive,” Beau protested as Jester started to line up pastries.

“So? I bought for everyone.” Jester carefully chose a cupcake and reverently held it out to Beau. “Try this. It’s supposed to be something called black moss.” 

They ate their way through a good chunk of Jester’s new stash. Outside on the streets the crowd was thinning out, possibly because a good portion of the passers byes filed into the bakery, filling up the tables and hanging out around the counter and on the open floor space. Beau didn’t realize it was a dancefloor until the orc girl, visibly relieved, walked off and was replaced with a band. Jester, immediately excited, sent a message to Fjord asking him and Yasha to come by once they were done with their shopping.

“Want to trap him in a waltz?” Beau asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“May-be,” Jester said, drawing out the word. “Do _you_ want to trap _Yasha_?”

Beau did her very best to look nonchalant. “I don’t think Yasha’s really into waltzing.”

“I’m sure she would be with you. She _likes_ you.” Jester clicked her tongue suggestively.

“She’s not-” Beau cleared her throat. “You heard her story. I’m not – I’ve been trying to back off.”

Jester stopped smiling. “But I really do think she likes you. And you like her, right?”

Beau busied herself with gathering up the crumbs on the table in front of her, avoiding Jester’s gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s complicated.” 

Caduceus, who’d been busy massacring a cupcake in what was possibly an attempt to reverse engineer it, looked up at her. “Complicated how?”

“I don’t know,” Beau said again, frustrated. “At first it was just, like, she’s really hot, you know?”

“I do not,” said Caduceus.

“ _Super_ hot, and I wasn’t even after anything, was just having some fun, but then…” 

How was she supposed to put into words the way she felt about Yasha being more than what Beau’d first taken her for? She threatened with a cold voice but stuttered heartfelt assurances to make Beau feel better, wore flowers in her hair and threaded them into crowns, healed with gentle hands and chapped lips, talked with excitement about food from her homeland and told deadpan jokes. She’d been through so much yet found it in herself to be kind and gentle and see beauty in the smallest of things. She looked at Beau as if she saw her pain, yet neither judged nor pitied her for it. She was beautiful. She wasn’t interested.

It was so much easier when it was all about lighthearted flirting.

Beau groaned and fell face first over the table. “Feelings suck.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Caduceus pushed a plate in front of her. “Have another pastry.”

“Hey Beau,” said Jester, “can I ask you something?”

Beau took a listless bite of the pastry. It had blueberries. “Shoot.”

“Have you always known you like women?”

The pastry went down the wrong pipe. Beau started coughing, turning away not to spatter Jester with crumbs, and got it on a passing gnoll instead. He glared at her, but just scoffed and kept walking when she wheezed an apology. Caduceus patted her on the back until she could breathe again.

“What?” she said, still a bit choked.

“Have you always known?” Jester repeated. “You just seem so sure about it. Did you have, like, a revelation?”

“Kind of? I always looked at girls differently than boys, and at one point it just fell into place.” Beau sipped her cider, careful to swallow before she kept talking. “Why? Are you rethinking about Fjord?”

Jester pulled at a lock of her blue hair, started winding it around her finger. “It’s just… you know how simple things seem when you’re little? Like in fairy tales?”

Beau didn’t know; her parents hadn’t been much for bedtime stories. “Sure,” she said.

“My mama always told med these stories about princes and princesses who fell in love at first sight, and then they went off to live happily ever after and had lots of babies and it was all so _romantic_ , they always just _knew_ that they should be together.”

“Yeah,” said Beau, “real life’s not like that.”

“It does sound a little unrealistic,” Caduceus agreed.

“Fjord was my first friend,” Jester went on. “After the Traveler, of course, but he came to me when I was just a kid; I could never really think of him in any other way. With Fjord it was different. I liked him and he liked me, and he’s really handsome and funny and brave, and I figured this must be it, he’s the one, right?”

“Right.”

“But it doesn’t feel the way you seem to feel about Yasha. I don’t want to make out with him or anything, and when I think about things like marriage and kids – I don’t know. It feels weird.”

“So maybe you’re not into him,” Beau suggested. “Maybe you aren’t even into guys.”

“Could I be? Without knowing, I mean.”

“I guess. Sometimes it’s easy to daydream about something because it isn’t a real possibility. Then when you’re faced with it…” Beau shrugged. “I don’t know. That wasn’t really how it went for me.”

Jester was quiet for a while, still playing with her hair. Beau finished her cider.

“Could I kiss you?” Jester asked.

Beau was very lucky she’d already swallowed her drink. She very carefully put her glass down while next to her, Caduceus said, mildly, “Oh dear.”

“You want to kiss me.”

“Just to see,” said Jester quickly. “If kissing a girl feels any different from thinking about boys.”

Beau would’ve lied if she said she didn’t have a bit of a crush on Jester. She hadn’t really had any friends before, and all her flings had been fleeting. Even Tori. They didn’t talk about things, didn’t share their feelings and stand by each other when things got hard. Jester was lovable and friendly and treated Beau like she thought she was a good person, flaws and all. She was fun to hang out with, was clever and creative and ruthless in a fight. It was hard not to fall at least a little bit for that.

“If you want to, I guess.”

She didn’t really know what to do with herself. This wasn’t how flirting went. Jester let go of her hair and leaned forward, hands pressed to the tabletop and eyes closing. Beau usually wasn’t one for hesitation, but this time she didn’t lean forward until she felt Jester’s breath, sweet and sugary, on her lips.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, lips closed and curious. One of Jester’s hands lifted from the table and lightly touched Beau’s jaw, thumb on her cheekbone.

They separated. Beau was a little breathless.

“Well?” she said, clearing her throat and pretending she wasn’t remembering other fingers on her skin, more calloused but just as gentle, and other lips touching hers. “Anything?”

Jester touched her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “Not really,” she said. “I mean, it was nice, but it doesn’t feel like people talk about it. There’s no _tingle_.” She tapped her chest, close to her heart. Beau noticed she wasn’t breathing quickly at all.

“So maybe not into girls, then.” Beau squinted in thought. “Or maybe you won’t feel anything unless it’s someone you already have feelings for. I’ve heard that’s a thing.”

Jester frowned. “It is?”

“Apparently.” Then, unable to keep herself from teasing just a little, Beau added, “Maybe you should try with Fjord instead.”

It was a dumb suggestion, she realized when Jester flinched. Jester might’ve been relentless with her flirting, but there was still a sense of vulnerability to it. She’d always get so happy when Fjord responded jokingly in kind, and when he didn’t she’d just keep pushing until she at least got a blush out of him, but she never really made a move, didn’t put herself in a position where he could tell her _no, I really am not interested_. It could all be excused as jokes and play. It hadn’t occurred to Beau that Jester might be worried that _she_ wasn’t interested.

“I think maybe you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be,” said Caduceus. “I’ve gotten the impression that what you’re talking about isn’t something that can be forced.”

Jester frowned. “Gotten the impression?” she echoed.

“Oh, I don’t really care for such things.” He made a dismissive gesture, seemingly much more interested in his dissected cupcake. “It seems like an awful lot of effort.”

“So you just… don’t?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never felt the need to try it. I’m happy with how things are; looking for a partner doesn’t feel like a necessity.”

Jester looked flabbergasted. “I’ve never thought about it like that,” she said. “I always thought, you know, _everyone_ wants to find someone, and if you don’t you’ll be all sad and lonely.”

“Loneliness is a very scary thing,” Caduceus admitted. “It’s only natural to look for something to fill it. But I’m not lonely, and I’m not sad. Well, I guess I was a bit lonely for a while, before I left home, but it’s better now. I don’t think you’d be lonely, either. You have your mother, yes? And you have your god, strange as he seems, and your friends. Having a partner wouldn’t somehow replace all that.”

“Yeah,” Beau agreed. “I mean, you promised to stick around to make sure no one murders me, so you won’t be alone no matter what.”

“And I doubt Fjord would leave simply because you aren’t a couple,” Caduceus added. “He cares about you, that much is clear.”

“You think so?” said Jester. 

“I know so.”

* * *

By the time Fjord and Yasha showed up, the little bakery was practically bustling with people. The music had sped up and couples were crowding the dancefloor, and Beau was feeling pretty ready to head back. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy dancing, but whenever she’d tried it had been at bars and nightclubs, not at quaint little cafés with live bands where you were expected to actually know the steps rather than just jump up and down in place, blinded by flashing lights and too drunk to remember your own name. This slow slow dance thing felt kind of intimidating.

They were moving towards the exit, Caduceus and the newly arrived Fjord talking about gods or magic or something, Beau didn’t care, when the band switched song. This one had a faster beat, more drums and less keening, and made the inside of Beau’s stomach thrum. 

“Oh my gosh.” Jester was bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “This music is so good you guys, we’ve _gotta_ dance.”

Beau subtly moved a few inches away from her. Yasha, not so subtly, said, “No.”

Jester rolled her eyes. Then, before Beau had a chance to register her dastardly plan, she hip checked Beau straight into Yasha and sent them both stumbling onto the dancefloor.

“What the fuck, Jes,” Beau complained, but Jester was already grabbing both her and Yasha with one hand each and started spinning them in circles. The other dancers, all seemingly taking this whole dancing thing a lot more seriously than Jester, threw irate looks their way.

“Is this how you do this?” Yasha sounded uncertain as she did her best to keep up with Jester’s skips and twirls. “You just spin?”

“You move with the music.” Jester beamed at the two of them. “Come on, hold hands and move like me.”

Beau automatically started reaching for Yasha, then stiffened. Next to her, Yasha did the same, both of them standing with a hand half-raised in the air and Jester dancing between them. Beau cleared her throat.

“Do you wanna…?”

“Is it okay if…?” Yasha said at the same time.

Both of them fell silent. Jester rolled her eyes and hip checked Beau a second time so that she fell straight into Yasha – _damn, her muscles really were rock solid_ – who automatically grabbed her hand to steady her.

“And now you just follow me, okay?” Jester said, not leaving any room for them to stammer clumsy apologies. She pulled them further out onto the dancefloor, and instead of the earlier spinning eased them into a rhythmic sort of swaying. 

It was hard to resist Jester as she urged them to “use their hips” and “move their feet”, and, much as she loathed any kind of formal dancing, Beau still found herself imitating her as best she could.

“Yes!” Jester cheered, delighted. “Just like that! You have surpassed your master!”

Beau snorted and was about to argue when Jester suddenly let go of her hand.

“You two keep going,” she said, dodging out of the way when Beau made a grab for her. “I’m going to get Fjord and Caduceus.”

And with that, she was gone.

Beau and Yasha weren’t moving. Then a couple danced into them, grumbled about them standing in the way, and they awkwardly started shuffling along again. Somewhere along the way, Beau’s free hand ended up on Yasha’s shoulder, Yasha’s on the curve of Beau’s hip.

“Is this okay?” Yasha asked, very carefully keeping her hand on the fabric of Beau’s pants, off her skin.

“Yeah, yeah, ’s fine.” Beau had to swallow; her mouth was dry as sawdust. Whatever rhythm Jester had coached her into was gone. “You done this before? Danced, I mean.”

Yasha very carefully moved her feet, deliberating before answering. “Not like this.”

“But you _have_ danced?”

More deliberation. Neither of them were leading, they were just sort of swaying back and forth, only barely keeping from bumping into other couples. “Our music wasn’t really the kind you do this sort of, ah, _slower_ dancing to. When we danced it was for celebration, mostly, or to egg us on before battle. Lots of drums and singing.”

“That’s it?” Beau feigned outrage. “No sneaking into the wastes for drunken teenage parties?”

“If our teenagers snuck into the wastes to party they’d get eaten. Some of them did, actually. The Skyspear called it natural selection.”

Beau snorted. “Man, your tribe doesn’t sound like much fun.”

To Beau’s surprise, Yasha smiled, though she lowered her eyes as she did so. “Our fun was different from yours, I think. We told a lot of stories, and spent a lot of time building up group loyalties. Also, the fighting was pretty exciting.”

“I can get behind the fighting, but ‘group loyalties?’ Seriously? Teambuilding was your version of fun?”

Another of those rare smiles. Beau was on a roll. “The ‘teambuilding’ usually involved fighting as well. But it – it wasn’t always like that, I’ve heard.”

“No?” Beau said, careful not to sound like she was prying. She’d never been good at that, asking not to demand information but simply to let people talk. She thought maybe Yasha needed to talk, willingly this time, free to stop whenever she so chose.

“I can’t remember it much myself,” Yasha said, smile gone, “but my mother used to tell me that it was different before our last Skyspear took up the mantle of leadership. She was kind of…” She stopped, seemingly looking for the right word.

“A bitch?” Beau suggested, surprising Yasha into a huffed laugh.

“I was thinking old fashioned, but yes, that too. She didn’t like it much when people had opinions or hobbies that didn’t have to do with making the tribe stronger. Everything had to be about the survival of the group.”

“And people just went with it?”

“At the time, it didn’t seem so strange. There’d been a lot of fiendish incursions, and we worried for our survival, and her ways really did make for better fighters. But it wasn’t just – it was more than that. We trusted each other with our lives, all of us. Everyone knew there wasn’t a one who wouldn’t lay down her life for the tribe.” A moment’s quiet before, faintly a whisper, “We were family.”

“You miss them,” Beau said, more a statement than a question. Yasha hesitated before nodding.

“I do, and then I feel bad about it, because I know what they did.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it,” Beau assured her. “It’s like you said; it’s not so strange to have mixed feelings about home. Half the time when I think about my parents I hate them, and the other half…” She swallowed, forcing herself to keep going. “I miss them. I miss what they _could’ve_ been, if they didn’t care more about what I wasn’t than what I was. And there’s even – sometimes I feel like it’s my fault. Like if I only was a better daughter, we could’ve been happy.”

Yasha looked at her, mismatched eyes flashing in the low light of the dancefloor. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be made to feel you have to earn the love of your family.”

Beau forced a laugh. “Well, I’m done with them anyway. They can keep each other miserable without me.” She hesitated. “Do you ever think about going back?” 

“No,” said Yasha immediately. “I think – sometimes you have to let family go. When they hurt you too bad. Besides.” She glanced around the room, at the happy, laughing people, at the fairy lights, at Fjord and Caduceus being dragged out on the dancefloor by a giggling Jester. “The wastes of Xhorhas feel very bleak, after all this. No color.”

Beau flashed back to their first real conversation, to Yasha saying she liked the colors of the greenhouse. “No greenery?” she asked. “Or, like, flowers?”

“There were flowers,” Yasha said. “Just not very many. Zuala and I used to look for them together.”

“She was…?”

“My wife, yes.”

Beau realized her hand had crept from Yasha’s shoulder to the crook of her neck, fingers resting against soft, warm skin. She reluctantly moved it back down. Yasha glanced down at her shoulder, clearly having noticed, and her mouth flattened into a thin, pained line.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beau saw Jester abandon Fjord and Caduceus and disappear in the crowd, probably to find someone else to harass. Fjord and Caduceus shuffled awkwardly together for all of ten seconds before hastily removing themselves from the dancefloor. They sat down by the counter instead, talking over the music with their heads close together. At one point, Caduceus held up his hand, doing some magic trick with glowing lights around his fingers.

Letting her gaze slide away from them, Beau suddenly realized she was being watched. There was a drow standing with his back to the counter, elbows propped up and that smug, self-confident sort of smile that Molly liked to flash around. Beau disliked him immediately out of principle.

It wasn’t until his eyes shifted slightly, landing on her, that she understood that it hadn’t been her he’d been watching. His smile widened, showing a glint of white fang, before he turned back to Yasha.

Beau elbowed her. “Hey, you know that guy?”

Yasha looked up. Frowned when the man, having noticed her look, waved lazily. “I don’t think so.”

“Want me to punch him for you?”

“I’d like to see that.”

Beau snorted. She was pretty sure Yasha wasn’t serious; she was getting better at picking up on her jokes.

“You think maybe we should leave? I’m sure the mechanic’s probably done by now, and also this dancing thing is growing a bit dull.”

“Gods yes,” said Yasha. “Someday I should show you my tribe’s dances. They’re a lot more exciting than this.” 

Beau stumbled at that, nearly twisting her ankle. They ended up stuttering apologies to each other all the way off the dancefloor.

* * *

“Where’d Jester go?” Beau asked when she and Yasha exited the bakery alongside Fjord and Caduceus.

“She said she was going to get something to eat,” said Fjord. “She’ll meet us back at the ship.”

Beau frowned. “Seriously? We just ate our way through half a bakery, how can she still be hungry?”

“Maybe she’s just buying pranking supplies and didn’t want us to know?” Yasha suggested, which, yeah, that made a lot of sense. Also, it kind of made Beau fear for her own personal safety.

They started making their way back, but had only gotten maybe a block or so when the hairs on the back of Beau’s neck stood up. She glanced over her shoulder; two people were trailing behind them, not doing even the slightest attempt to be subtle about it. One of them was the drow from the bakery. The other was drow as well, a woman with red hair pulled back from her face with a bandana.

Beau’s danger sense was screaming. Things didn’t end well the last time a good looking red-haired woman followed them. She stopped walking.

“Hey,” she shouted, “what’s your problem?”

The rest of the group, having noticed her falling behind, stopped as well. Yasha was frowning at the man, who smiled with white teeth as he kept walking. Beau brought out her staff but didn’t extend it. The man stopped just far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to easily hit him.

“Orphanmaker,” he said, keeping his eyes on Yasha. Behind him, the red-haired woman looked almost bored. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

He was tall for a drow, and looked strong, too. Could probably crush Essek with his little finger, which should’ve been an entertaining thought but mostly made Beau a little angry. She snapped her wrist and extended the staff.

“What do you want?”

The man glanced at her without turning away from Yasha. “Just to speak with an old friend. It’s been a while.”

Yasha was staring at him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on her face. “You know me?”

“My dear, of course. But it was a bit of a turbulent time. I understand if your memories are somewhat… _fuzzy_.” A sharp smile. “What say you we find somewhere to sit down and catch up?”

He gestured the way they’d come, at the darkened street stretching out behind them. Beau hadn’t realized until now how empty it’d become; only the rare person passed by, all with the hurried pace of those headed home after a late night out. There was, however, a station guard at the other end of it, a gnoll woman wearing a uniform and carrying a pulse rifle thrown over one shoulder. She wasn’t looking their way.

“I think we could talk right here,” Yasha said, not moving a muscle. “I have nothing to hide from my friends.”

“You sound very sure, seeing as you don’t remember what you might have to hide.”

“Dude,” said Beau, “fuck off.”

The man looked over at her, eyeing her properly for the first time. She bared her teeth at him and he smiled, looking as if he’d been threatened by a puppy and found it somewhat endearing. The urge to break his nose was ever-growing.

Fjord cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Yasha’s part of our crew. Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to all of us.”

Yasha just kept staring at the man.

“Hmm.” He tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes run over the group before snapping back to Yasha. “It’s a strange lot you run with these days, Orphanmaker. But I must say, you look to have become stronger since last we traveled together. Perhaps it’s about time you stop running and return to what you do best.”

The woman shifted slightly behind him, muscles tensing. Beau mirrored her movements.

“I’m sorry,” said Yasha. Her voice was softer than Beau’d expected. “I would like to hear what you have to say, but I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Perhaps we could arrange for a meeting tomorrow,” Fjord suggested. “In the daytime. With more people about. Maybe we could even have tea.” He sounded polite enough, but the tone was unmistakable. The man didn’t acknowledge him with even a look. 

“My dear Orphanmaker, are you certain about this?”

Yasha actually hesitated. Beau could only imagine what it was like, having answers about her missing time dangled right in front of her. But this man was bad news, and Yasha clearly felt it just as much as Beau.

“I am. I – I hope maybe we can speak some other time, though?”

“Oh, of that I’m sure.”

Tension hung thick in the air. Beau held her staff so tightly it was practically vibrating, ready to strike. But Yasha just stepped back and turned to leave, the rest of the group slowly following. The man didn’t move.

They got maybe five steps before he raised his voice.

“By the way, Orphanmaker? One more thing, before you leave.”

Beau had always been fast, even before she trained to be a monk. She and Tori used to run from the Crownsguard together, and almost always got away. Even as a child she’d been fast enough to sneak treats from kitchen trays without anyone noticing before it was too late.

She wasn’t fast enough, this time. The man raised one hand and said something, low and guttural. He didn’t step forward, didn’t get close enough to Yasha to touch her. He didn’t need to. The implant on the back of Yasha’s neck sparked. She fell as if all her strings had been cut.

Beau was already moving, swinging her staff at his head, but the woman stepped forward then, slashing downward with a wicked-looking dagger. It wasn’t until half the staff clattered to the street that Beau realized it’d been cut in two. It was such a shock that she was almost too slow to dodge when the woman moved in. As it was she managed to avoid getting stabbed through the throat, but still felt the blade slice her clavicle deep enough to strike bone.

She swore and drew back, spattering the ground with bright red blood. The woman moved with her, slashing and cutting without pause. Beau went on the defensive, putting all her effort into blocking, keeping her eyes peeled for an opening. When she spotted one, she dove in low, aiming her significantly shorter but also suddenly much sharper staff at her opponent’s stomach.

The woman sank through the floor and disappeared.

Beau stumbled. A hand grabbed for her foot, and then a blade sliced into her calf. She tried to stomp it, but it disappeared back into the street like a ghost.

“You should leave,” said the man. “Orphanmaker will be safe with me, don’t worry.”

Beau wasn’t sure what’d happened while she was fighting the woman, but Fjord and Caduceus were bloodied and winded. One of the man’s hands was glowing slightly as he held it out, and there were scorch marks on the street around him as if he’d warded himself from magical attack. There wasn’t a scratch on him.

“Fuck you, we aren’t going anywhere,” Beau spat.

The man raised one eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak.

And then he got hit over the head with something big, pink, and sparkly.

“Guys, what’s going on? I heard shouting.” 

Jester was rushing out from a side street, frantically taking in the scene before her. The spectral lollipop floated back to her side. At the other end of the street, the guard had noticed the scuffle and started moving towards them, one hand raised to her mouth as if speaking into a comms device.

“We need to leave.” Fjord was grabbing one of Yasha’s arms and trying to heave her off the ground, but she was much too heavy for him.

“This is on me, my apologies. I’m usually not quite this easy to catch off guard.”

Beau stiffened. The man was getting back up, only he wasn’t the same man as a moment ago. Whatever spell he’d been using to hide his true self, it had apparently been knocked off by Jester’s spiritual weapon.

Standing in front of them was a fiend, red-skinned and horned, great big wings flaring out behind him. The teeth, when he smiled, were just as white as before, but significantly sharper.

This was… yeah, this was bad. Beau bit down on her pain and sprang back, flinging one of her newly acquired throwing stars at the man as she went. He deflected it easily, but it won her enough time to reach the others and grab one of Yasha’s arms. Unsurprisingly, she was just as heavy as she looked.

There was shouting now. Clearly the approaching guardswoman had noticed that she was facing something a bit worse than just some sleazy dude and a drunken street brawl. She’d started running, pulse rifle raised. Whatever she was shouting, the man didn’t seem too bothered.

At least not until more guards started pouring in from surrounding streets. That was enough to finally get him to turn his attention away.

“Jourrael,” he said, sounding mildly annoyed. “Make sure they stay put. I’ll handle this.”

Hands phased through the floor at Beau’s feet. This time she didn’t try to stomp them, but grabbed for them instead. The woman – Jourrael, apparently – didn’t seem to expect it, especially not when Beau got a solid grip on her instead of passing right through her wrists. Her face betrayed open surprise when Beau hauled her right up out of the street.

“Hey, guess what?” Beau said. “I can punch ghosts.”

It sounded good until she swung at the woman’s face and missed. Jourrael grinned.

“Traveler, help us out a little maybe?” Jester’s voice was shrill and warbling, but her hands were steady as she pointed at Jourrael. “Send this creepy ghost _away_!”

Jourrael stopped grinning. That was all she had the time to do before disappeared from existence with a crack of air.

“That’ll only last for a minute,” Jester gasped. She bent down and took Yasha’s arm from Beau. “I think maybe we should run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm a multishipper?
> 
> So, fun fact: I started writing/planning this fic before fjorester officially went canon, when Jester’s romantic feelings towards _anyone_ were still very much up in the air. Had The Kiss happened when I was planning, I probably would've included fjorester as a background ship (fun fact #2: before settling on shadowgast and beauyasha, I also considered either going with beaujester, widojest or even widomauk). As it was, I decided I was very sick of any and all Jester ship drama and decided to go full projection and simply write her as ace.
> 
> Next chapter will be another bonus, this time from Yasha's point of view!


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